Caught in the Riptide
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'Castle plops down to the sand once she's gone, opens his notebook on his bent knees and uncaps his pen. He came here for inspiration, and he may have just found it.' Based on a gif set by katigron on tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

_"Caught in the riptide,_

 _I was searching for the truth,_

 _There was a reason I collided into you"_

 _-Here With Me, Susie Suh & Robot Koch_

* * *

The monotony of waking up each morning (sometimes afternoon), staring helplessly at a blank word document, and receiving a handful of angry calls from Gina each evening had been killing him. Slowly, spreading like a toxin through his system, simultaneously sucking the life from him and driving him insane.

Alexis had understood, arriving home from school each day with a sympathetic smile on her lips as she shrugged off her backpack to embrace him in a hug and words of comfort.

"You need a break, Dad," his daughter had sighed one afternoon, her arms around his shoulders as she leaned past him to shut his laptop. "Forcing yourself to come up with a new character isn't going to help things. It isn't going to fix…"

Her sentence had trailed that day, but he knew what she meant. Ever since he had killed off Derrick Storm, he had been acting like a man at a funeral, constantly in mourning. Not of his character, but of his career, his passion.

He missed the thrill of writing, the excitement of having the words crowding in his head, pouring from his fingertips to the keys.

"Not that I need one, but Gram already lives here, she would make a fine babysitter for a week or two," Alexis had mused, tugging him up from his desk chair, out of the gloomy lair his office had become, through the living room, and into the kitchen.

Castle had huffed. "Yeah, because you'd likely be the one babysitting her."

"Well, I have enough experience looking after you for all of these years, so I'm sure she'd be a piece of cake," Alexis had informed him with a playfully narrowed look before rummaging through the freezer and meeting him at the countertop with a tub of ice cream and two spoons.

"Alexis, I'm not going to pick up and abandon you for any reason, but definitely not so I can take a break from doing nothing all day."

"Dad, you'd never abandon me," Alexis had informed him, serious as she held his gaze, the underlying _not like mom_ hiding in the ice blue flare of her eyes. "But the summer program I've been attending is coming to an end at the end of the month," she had reminded him, because of course as soon as the regular school year had ended, Alexis had shown up in his office doorway with news of a pre-college academics program at NYU starting in the middle of the summer. "So I have exams for the next week and a half, I'll be studying nonstop, and no offense, but I can't stand the moping anymore. So pick a place, take your favorite pen and notebook, your laptop, and go write for a week."

His daughter had made it sound so enticing, so easy, that he wanted to believe her. Any other kid and he would have thought she was just trying to get rid of him for a week so she could have the house to herself for parties or other activities he didn't even want to _fathom_ his baby bird participating in, but Alexis wasn't like other teenagers. She cared about her schoolwork, about her family, and about his happiness. She just wants him to be happy and he was tired of disappointing her.

"You would still have to call me at least twice a day, of course," Alexis had added, twirling the gleaming silver spoon in her fingers. "But otherwise, no more Gina, no Paula, none of the people stressing you out, got it?"

"Alexis," he had laughed. "I haven't agreed to anything."

His daughter had scooped a spoonful of rocky road from the tub of ice cream, grinned smugly around her mouthful. "You will."

He had. And now he was across the country, in the magnificent forest of the infamous Big Sur, hoping to take a page from Kerouac's book and maybe find some inspiration amongst the calm of the woods. Then again, judging by the former author's novel based on his time in the area, maybe he didn't want to follow _too_ closely in the unsettled man's footsteps, down the descent into madness.

He had rented a modernized cabin though - couldn't go _too_ far out of his element - in a secluded part of the woods, where the chances of being recognized were slim to none. He had no neighbors, only one other home in the distance that he could see through the mass of brush and trees in the night, when the place's lights were on and spilling golden through the maze of trees.

Big Sur is so different from home, the wilderness foreign, the silence unnerving, but roaming the woods, the beach, upon his arrival offers a peace he hasn't felt in years, a balm to the unbearable tension of the last few months. And maybe Alexis was right, maybe this is exactly what he needs to emerge from his endless writing slump.

* * *

Awakening that first morning to the chirp of birds compared to the cacophony of city life he's used to is both pleasant and strange. He calls and leaves Alexis a voice message after he dresses, knowing she's still in class and that his cell signal outside of the cabin is limited, and heads out of his temporary home into the sunlight that breaches the ceiling of the forest, the beach his destination. He brings along his notebook and a pen just in case, but doesn't expect to use them, spending the majority of his morning taking pictures on his brief hike through the woods for Alexis, capturing the beauty of the rustic scenery as he promised he would.

But once he reaches the nearest beach through a short drive in his rental car, treks through the trail that leads to the ocean, Castle catches sight of a woman near the waves, not walking the oceanside, but simply standing sentinel in the sand - the sun caressing her golden skin, the water licking at her ankles, her hair long and loose, flowing in the breeze with the sheer fabric of the oversized cardigan clinging to her arms.

He almost extracts his pen and his moleskin at the sight.

It's hardly been 24 hours, but Rick is a people person, constantly surrounded by a hum of activity, and the lack of human contact has him starved already. So he approaches the lone figure on the empty beach, the sand silencing his footsteps, but her shoulders tense once he's only a few steps away, her head jerking over the curve of bone to find him there, watching her and - and wow, she's breathtaking.

With the bone structure of a model, her features sharp and striking, and eyes that swirl fierce and feral with colors he's never seen, his mind immediately dubs her a goddess of the sea, a siren who calls to him without saying a word, but this woman doesn't seem to take well to his awestruck inspection of her.

The liquid hazel of her eyes scrutinize him as she takes a step back, her hands in fists as if ready to defend herself, so Castle raises his in supplication.

"Sorry to startle you," he apologizes before she can hit him, or run away, or both. "I just saw you standing here on the beach and I thought I'd introduce myself. Are you staying in any of the cabins nearby?"

The woman stares at him as if he's spoken another language, and… oh, he hadn't even considered that. What if she doesn't speak English? Judging solely by her outer appearance, she could definitely be European, carries that enticing exotic look, and how terribly uncomfortable he probably just made this. Not to mention awkward.

"I'm sorry," he says again, slower, enunciating his words as if speaking to a child, and her brow furrows deeper. "Can you even understand me?"

Her lips purse with indignation and her arms cross over her chest. "I'm not stupid," she snaps, venom lacing through the statement, and she may be pissed at him upon only just meeting him, but at least the threat of a language barrier has been eliminated.

Castle grins and extends his hand, but she doesn't take it, merely flicks her gaze down to the proffered palm with an arched eyebrow and a look of distaste.

"I'm Rick," he adds, still keeping his hand up and between them and finally, after another bout of awkward silence, she sighs, accepts the handshake with tentative fingers that send sparks up his arm, electricity through his veins.

The nameless woman must feel it too, she has to, because she pulls away, jerks her hand back as if he's seared her sun kissed skin.

"I'm here to write," he explains, but his mind is still on the lingering static sizzling beneath the palm of his hand, the whorls of his fingertips. "Books. I write - books."

She nods, but her eyes are dark, spooked.

"I - I have to go," she murmurs, turning on her bare heel and trudging up the beach, towards a path that will lead back into the nearby parking lot, snagging her shoes before she disappears.

Castle stares after her for a few moments but plops down to the sand once she's gone, opens his notebook on his bent knees and uncaps his pen. He came here for inspiration, and he may have just found it.

* * *

Hours later, during that second sleepless night in the quiet of the woods with the sounds of insects and animals outside his window, he's able to write again. No pressure, no demands, only a smooth flow of words he hasn't been able to produce since his last book was published. His passion resurrected and the mystery woman from the beach on his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

It's a gamble, one he doesn't have high hopes for, but the next morning, he hikes across the woods to the only other cabin in sight, climbs the worn but well-kept wooden porch steps and knocks on the front door. When his knocks go unanswered, he sighs in frustration, takes a step back from the door, and prepares to turn around, continue back down the beaten path with disappointment heavy on his shoulders.

"I sleep with a gun, you know."

Castle jumps, nearly stumbles down the steps, spinning to find her emerging from the brush, coming around from the opposite side of the small home with her brow raised in unspoken question.

"What are you doing on my property, Rick?"

It takes him a moment to think past the rich sound of his name slipping from her mouth and Castle's lips part to protest, to defend himself, but she tilts her head towards the sign near the trail he took to get here and… oh, it clearly states in bold letters:

 **PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING.**

Oops.

"I - I just didn't know how to find you, so I thought I would check here first. You're the only neighbor I have, so I thought it was worth a shot," he explains, rambles, and she continues to watch him in confusion.

"And why, exactly, would you want to find me?" she questions, still wary of him, and he wonders if she's spent any time at all thinking of the instant connection established through their single touch of hands, if she longed to see him even a tiny bit since her departure from the beach yesterday, or if she simply brushed the spark off as nothing more than coincidence.

But he's never experienced quite a coincidence like that with anyone else, has never felt so inspired by another person like he had with this mystery woman. Not even Sophia, a woman he once deemed the most fascinating he would ever meet, had made the words come so fast and effortless.

No, this woman was different, and he isn't ready to walk away.

"I wanted to see you again," he shrugs, suddenly remembering the picnic basket hanging from the crook of his elbow and stupidly holding it out towards her like a peace offering. "And I brought breakfast."

The nameless woman has her guard up high, studying him like a time bomb as she climbs the steps with caution and retrieves a set of keys from the pocket of her shorts.

"Just know that if you try anything, I will hurt you," she warns before pushing open her front door and allowing him to follow her inside.

"I won't try anything," he swears, a little surprised by how suspicious she is of him, how ready she is to fight. Does he really give off those sorts of vibes, the kind to elicit such hostility, or is she just naturally this defensive? He almost takes the risk and asks, but his admiration of her home quiets his question, steals his attention. "Wow, nice."

Her cabin is not quite as modernized as his, not as advanced in its appliances and decor, but it's comforting, quant and welcoming. A home, not some impersonal rental spot like his, and he already wants to explore every inch, learn the story behind every piece of furniture, every knick-knack and personal belonging.

"Thanks," she mumbles, toeing off her ballet flats near the door, popping her bare toes on the hardwood floor. "It was my dad's."

"Was?" he catches instantly, watching with a heart that clenches for her as her spine stiffens, but she sighs, shakes her head.

"My father isn't dead, he just - we don't come here often. Just me when I have the time," she explains with downcast eyes before accepting the picnic basket he offers her, carrying it to the modest dining table hardly large enough for two near a window across the room.

"Oh," he exhales in relief, following after her, examining the warm looking couch in the living room and the stone fireplace set in the wall, the kitchen and its subtle personal touches, the plants in the window sill and the wildflowers wilting in the vase atop the kitchen counter, still straining to keep their color. "So you're here on vacation too?"

A noise gets caught in her throat at the question, something like grief and anguish trapped behind her lips, but she shrugs her shoulders, hides behind the thick, wavy curtain of her hair.

"Something like that," she murmurs, opening the basket and assessing the contents skeptically.

"It's just pancakes and some fruit," he explains, striding across the room to join her at the square table. "And, well, some orange juice in that bottle and coffee in the thermal there. I wasn't sure which you would prefer," he explains, retrieving the two beverage choices from the basket, adding to the buffet taking up all of her table space. "I also made some waffles and I thought about eggs and bacon, but I wasn't sure if you were a vegetarian so that could have been bad-"

"Rick," she chuckles, batting at his buzzing hands, but he's already come to a standstill, the gentle beginnings of a smile on his lips. He really likes his name coming from her mouth while she's grinning.

She leaves his side to acquire two plates and mugs from the kitchen cabinets, handing them off to him while she turns back for the cutlery. Rick makes her plate first, including the little packets of butter and syrup his own cabin is plied with, filling the cobalt blue mug with the still hot coffee she decides on while he takes the orange juice.

"So," he muses, waiting until the still nameless woman he's taken too severe of an interest in has returned to the table to claim her seat.

"So," she parrots back, slipping into what looks to be a handcrafted chair across from him and coiling her fingers around a fork and a knife, slicing her pancake into neat little squares. "What is it you want from me, Mr. Castle?"

His fork goes limp in his hand, the strawberry he had speared plopping back to his plate. "You know who I am?"

"You write books," she echoes his explanation from yesterday, a smirk curling at the edge of her mouth. "And I knew you'd looked familiar."

Castle drops his eating utensil and leans forward. "Oh, please tell me you're a fan."

The woman scoffs, her eyes alight and golden under the streaks of morning sun spilling through the window, but a touch of pink kisses her cheeks, caresses the skin of her neck, hinting at a lie.

"Fine, don't tell me if you read my work. Can I at least have your name?"

She hums in contemplation as she picks up the tiny bottle of syrup he set out for her, drizzles it over the diced pancake, and should he be concerned that he finds the preparation of her meal so seductive?

Probably so.

"I'll tell you my name when you tell me your motives," she compromises, lifting the fork to her mouth and closing her lips around her bite of pancake, watching him through the dark fringe of her lashes, the corner of her mouth curling as he swallows hard.

"I don't have any motives," he manages, fumbling for his fork and the lost piece of fruit. "But if you know my status as a writer at all, you know I haven't produced any new material in… awhile." She hesitates, but nods around a sip of her coffee. "I came here at my daughter's insistence, thinking that maybe a change of environment would help. I didn't really expect anything to come of it, but then I saw you."

She places her cup back on the table, chews on her lowers lip at his words, but shies away from the gaze he's pinned on her.

"You saw me standing on the beach, talked to me for two seconds, and then I left. How does that manage to change anything?" she questions, her voice hard, untouchable like it was the day before.

Castle shrugs. He isn't sure how to explain it to himself, let alone her, but if it can aid in changing her mind, he can try. "I don't know, you just made me want to learn your story, made me want to write it."

"There is no story," she mutters, swirling her pancake in a puddle of syrup.

"There's always a story," he counters, but she shakes her head, dropping her fork and curving both hands around her coffee instead. "Always a chain of events that-"

"You can't have mine," she cuts him off, her words sharp despite their whispered descent, but he's already in too deep, he _has_ to have it now.

But she doesn't need to know that just yet.

"Can I at least have your name?" he repeats, earning a quirk of her lips and a sigh as she meets his eyes with something light and tentative glimmering in hers, battling with the darkness that seems to inhabit her from the inside out.

"Kate."

"Kate," he echoes, savoring the taste of her name on his tongue. "I like it. Simple but beautiful."

Her eyes roll, but her cheeks are stained with a subtle blush again. "Eat your breakfast, Mr. Castle."

He complies, taking his time, making this meal with her last as long as possible, and when their plates are cleared, hunger satisfied, he helps her clean up, hand washes the dishes with her side by side, washing while she dries.

"So you're just cooped up in a cabin writing all day?" she asks, arranging their plates on a dish rack.

"Well, no. I didn't start writing until yesterday. On the beach."

Kate huffs, disbelief and even a tinge of agitation in the shake of her head. "What did you even write about? Nothing happened."

But that's where she's wrong. That chance encounter changed everything, for him at least, and yeah, she may think he's crazy, but Kate has already hooked him without even trying, drawn him in with the untamed look in her eyes and the mystery that wraps around her like a cloak, one he's desperate to solve.

"I wrote about a woman who got lost," he begins, paying attention to her body language, gauging how far he can push her before she shuts him out completely. "A smart, good looking woman who's running, from her life, her past, maybe even her future. She's lost, lost… a lot, and she's defined by it."

Kate's fingers clench around the drying cloth, her eyes shuttering closed and her shoulders hunching to her ears in defense.

"So I wrote about her, a character study."

"I'm not a character," she growls, throwing down the dishrag, prepared to escape the confined space of the kitchen, but Castle catches her by the wrist.

"No, you're just inspiring," he corrects before her temperature can spike and she decides to kick him out of her cabin.

She stares up at him like she's drowning, helpless, angry and confused, ready to run, but not before she grinds out a question. "What do you want from me?"

Oh, so many answers he could give.

"I'm not here, in your home, for help with my novel, Kate. You - yes, you make me want to write, but it's more than that." He steps in closer, her captured arm bending as he eradicates the distance, backs her into the sink.

She blinks, her eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth before cutting to the hand around her wrist. He releases the delicate bone with a final sweep of his thumb across the warmth of her skin, watches the hand curl protectively at the middle of her chest, over her heart.

"I think you should go," she murmurs without looking up and he wants to argue, to push, but he moves back instead, gives her the space she needs to breathe.

"You know this place, right?" he tries for a topic change, for a chance to salvage it all. Kate wavers, but nods, straightening her white t-shirt and scraping a hand through her hair. "Maybe you could show me around?"

He expects an immediate denial, swift rejection, but is met with a sigh instead. "I - fine. I'll come by later."

"Really?" he grins, earning his second eye roll of the morning and a hand to his shoulder that shoves him towards the door.

"Really. I'll be at your cabin around noon," she confirms, swinging open her own cabin's door and propping her shoulder to the doorjamb.

Rick takes the hint, snags his picnic basket from the table, and trots to the door, his fears of losing her before he can even have her evaporating as he trots out to the porch, waving at her over his shoulder.

She begins to close the door once he's descended into the manmade path through the forest, but not before he catches her smile through the crack of the wood.


	3. Chapter 3

"Can we take a break?" he whines from behind her, panting to keep up with her pace. A hike through the woods with her had sounded glorious, romantic even, but after five miles, he's ready to collapse.

"Fine, old man," Kate relents, guiding him to a cluster of fallen redwoods and chuckling when he sinks down onto the tree trunk with a sigh of relief. "Have you been taking pictures for Alexis?" she asks, and the butterflies resting upon the rungs of his ribs flutter. Because of course he had told her about his daughter during the last five miles and already, Kate seems to have developed a fondness for Alexis after hearing the slew of stories he shared with her.

The last thing women usually care about when it comes to him is his daughter.

"Yes," he grunts, waving his camera at her, but it's true. While playing tour guide, Kate has allowed multiple stops for him to take as many pictures of the stunning scenery as he liked. He's taken quite a few candid shots of her as well when she wasn't paying attention, unable to help it. She's beautiful and she fits so seamlessly into the magic of the forest, as if she's a mystical creature of the woods herself.

Kate retrieves a bottle of water from her rucksack, offers it up to him, and he accepts with a grateful smile, but only receives a grimace in return.

"Hey," he murmurs when he notices the potential reason for the pained expression, his eyes tracking downwards, to the fingers circling at her sternum, rubbing at a place beneath her shirt. "Kate, are you okay?"

"Fine," she mumbles, but she's hunched over now, hands braced on her knees while she tries to breathe without wincing. "Just winded."

"No, _I'm_ winded, you're hurting," he assesses, abandoning his water and his spot on the redwood to crouch at her side. "Here, you sit-"

"No, no, it's just my - just a sore spot," she protests, but he still nudges her towards the tree.

She doesn't make it that far, crumbling to her knees in the dirt, and Castle goes down with her, holding to her shoulders as she wheezes and bites back whimpers of pain.

"Kate, tell me what's wrong, tell me what to do."

"Can't," she gasps out, squeezing her eyes shut. "P-pass. It'll pass."

He doesn't like the answer, but talking seems to be a struggle for her at the moment, so he waits, settles for rubbing circles on her back, hoping to soothe the heaving frame of her bones. Eventually, her breathing slows, returning to normal, and she's allowed to straighten with only a slight cringe.

He gives her a single minute before he asks.

"What was that?"

Kate sighs, still clutching to that spot between her breasts. "I'm still healing, shouldn't have pushed so hard soon."

His brow furrows. He realizes it's only been a day, but he's noticed no visible injury she could be recovering from. But then she sits back on her heels, tugs the vee of her t-shirt down and before he can stutter a question, his eyes zero in on the angry red scar etched into her chest, carved into the skin right above where her heart should be.

"Kate," he whispers, lifting a hand, but not touching, hovering his fingers over the swollen knot of uneven flesh. Writing Derrick Storm required a lot of research on a multitude of areas, one of those areas being bullet wounds, but never has he seen one up close and personal like this. Never a fatal shot on a living body.

"Three months ago," she murmurs, releasing the neck of her shirt, hiding the healing scar once more. "I was speaking at my captain's funeral-"

"Captain?" he interrupts, hanging on her every word, but needing to know every detail that goes along with them.

"Of my precinct, where I work as a homicide detective," she mumbles, a flare of shame spreading across her face. "Sniper got me in the middle of it. I thought it was over, but then a few days later, I woke up in a hospital bed. I needed - I couldn't stay in New York." _New York?_ Kate lived in New York too? Well, if he hadn't believed in fate before... "So once I was cleared for flying, I came here to recover."

He stares at her, stunned for a moment. He knew she had a story, but never could he have imagined it would be anything like this.

Kate eases her back against the bark of the fallen tree, tugs her knees to her chest and hooks an arm around her shins. Castle follows, settling beside her, but not touching.

"When I was nineteen, my mother was murdered," she begins, staring out into the vast expanse of the forest but not seeing the scenery as she does exactly what she swore only hours ago she would not do.

She gives him her story.

* * *

Kate rose from the forest floor after telling him everything, everything from the death of her mother to the reopening of her case that got her shot, and left him unable to move for a handful of seconds in favor of continuing down the hiking trail without him. Her guard is up when he finally reclaims his stolen breath, jogs to rejoin her on the path, but he doesn't want that, doesn't want her to feel as if things have changed now that he knows more than a stranger should. Enough to write a book.

"So, I guess you have a backstory now," she mumbles when he reaches her, attempting humor, but it crumbles under the strain of her false smile, the glistening sheen in her eyes.

"I don't know, I was kind of contemplating this hooker by day, cop by night idea-"

He makes a show of mock injury when she smacks him on the bicep, but her smile is genuine now, her laughter true, and that's all he wants for this woman. Joy and laughter and happiness that isn't tainted with unbidden sorrow.

It's been a day, a handful of hours, but he is already so helplessly enraptured with every word that leaves her mouth, every look that passes across her face, everything about her and he... he is in so much trouble. He's already quite certain Kate could ruin him.

He only met her a mere 24 hours ago, but he already wants so much for her. So much of her.

"Does this mean I have permission to write about you?" he decides to ask, hoping it won't send her backpedaling, but to his relief, her lips remain upturned, and her sigh is of exaggerated defeat rather than indignation. "C'mon Kate, you're my muse."

Kate turns to glare at him over her shoulder for the remark before shifting away from the coastal view ahead entirely and stalking towards him, tugging him forward by the collar of his shirt and lifting on the toes of her sneakers to reach his eye level once she's standing before him.

She's so close, close enough to touch, to inhale the cherry flavor of her shampoo, smell the mixture of sweat and oil and the woods on her skin.

"Call me your muse again and I'll break both your legs," she informs him with a voice smooth as honey and eyes that burn gold with warning, sultry but lethal all at once.

Castle arches his brow, caresses the tender flesh of her mouth with his gaze before returning to meet her darkening eyes, golden hazel turning to molten amber. "Most women would consider it a compliment."

Kate smirks.

"I'm not like most of your women."

"No," he hums, feathering his hands at her hips, gripping the bones when she doesn't freeze or falter. "You're better."

Approval ignites in her eyes at the answer, but her teeth pin her bottom lip in apprehension, and then she's pulling away, out of his grasp, but snagging his hand.

"C'mon, Castle, let's finish the hike so you can get back to writing."

Victory sizzles in his blood and her fingers twine with his as she leads him deeper into the loop of the forest that will take them back to the clearing. She's given him the permission he sought, given him her story, and now he has her hand in his. He can't wait to call Alexis tonight and shower her with gratitude for suggesting this trip.


	4. Chapter 4

He's still in bed when the knock on his front door resounds through the silence of the cabin, exhausted after staying up until daybreak to make sure all the words and ideas made it onto the word document he's dedicated to her, but there's only one person that could be outside his door and Castle leaps from the bed, stumbles around his bedroom until he's found a pair of wrinkled shorts and a plaid shirt hanging on his closet door.

Kate arches her brow once he finally swings the front door open, her gaze lowering to assess his disheveled appearance. "Morning?"

Castle glances down, makes quick work of his incorrectly fastened buttons, feeling his ears heat up while she chuckles at him.

"Late night writing," he explains. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon," she informs him with a smirk. "I just stopped by to see if you'd like to come to the beach with me, but if you're too tired-"

"No, no," he argues, too soon, too eager, and usually he's not so obvious, but Kate flusters him, turns him into a teenage boy with his first real crush all over again. "Did you have something specific in mind?"

Kate shrugs, glances back to the porch, and he follows her gaze, notices a blanket folded near the wooden railing, a thick book perched atop the fabric, and her rucksack from their hike yesterday at its side. "Not really. It's just a nice day and I thought you might want to get out of the house."

A relaxing day on the beach with Kate Beckett (he had finally weaseled her last name out of her yesterday evening before they had parted ways), he couldn't fathom a better way to spend his time.

"Are we going to the beach where we met?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows at her, but she scoffs, shakes her head in exasperation.

"Yeah, Castle, but if what you've told me is true, you haven't even seen what it has to offer," she reminds him, and yeah, she has a point. Really, all he did once he actually reached the beach that first day was drop to the sand and write until the water rose to his ankles and the temperature began to dip with impending nightfall.

"So you're taking me exploring, another adventure through the best parts of Big Sur?" he grins, excitement bubbling in his blood as he steps in closer to her, still standing in the entryway. She looks pretty today, he notices, appreciating the fit of her simple black tank top, the cling of her skirt to her waistline and the light, flowing material drenched in blues, greens, and even a dash of yellow that caresses her knees. Pretty and soft, not at all what he's come to expect from the NYPD detective with a bullet hole in her chest.

Delight mingles with his anticipation when she allows him to reach out, sweep a thick curl behind her ear.

"Sure," she indulges him, her lips quirking to match his and her hand rising to catch his fingers at her jaw. "Grab your stuff and let's start our next adventure."

* * *

Kate drives them the short distance to Pfeiffer Beach once he relinquishes the keys to his rental car, managing to earn a free parking spot after a brief chat with a man in a booth who smiles at her a little too fondly for Castle's liking. But she takes his hand once she has her rucksack on her shoulders again and leads him towards the sandy, mile long trail that will guide them down to the beach. Castle carries the blanket beneath his arm, along with his notebook that he brought along at her insistence, though he would be far more content to have her company over Nikki's – the new character he finally managed to pick a name for last night after hours of deliberation. But the pages of his notebook will always hold Kate Beckett's name, not Nikki Heat's.

The book he had noticed on the porch of his cabin is tucked into the pack clinging to her shoulders and Castle cranes his neck, struggles to read the title.

"A Romanian dictionary?" he queries, earning a pierce of her nail to the webbing between his thumb and his forefinger. "Oww, Kate, I'm a writer. It's my job to be nosy."

"Invalid excuse," she huffs, tugging him closer to her side, away from the rucksack and the enticing language book calling to him from the front pocket.

The edge of her skirt flutters in the wind, the soft, patterned fabric brushing his knees, and he dips his eyes to exposed skin of her legs, the lean muscles and the suntanned flesh. He's still marveling over the fact that she's wearing a skirt, stupidly astonished by the softer side to this wild, Amazonian-like warrior his mind has conjured her up to be since that first day he came across her at the water's edge.

From what he's learned of her, Kate is an extremely guarded person, closed off and untouchable like the woman he had met on the beach, but since the morning he showed up at her cabin, since their hike in the woods, he's starting to notice that she's free here, free from the stress of having a target on her back, free from the burden that comes with being a detective, of being a victim of loss herself. Free enough to wear a pretty skirt that he can't imagine ever seeing the light of day in her home of the city across the country.

She came to Big Sur to forget, to lose herself for the three months she's spent healing, maybe even to hide for a while. Sort of like him. Of course, she's still hurting, still wounded and scraped raw from the shooting, from last twelve years, but she's strong enough to overcome, to fight her demons. She's extraordinary.

"I wanted to learn a new language while I was here," she shrugs at his side, her shoulder brushing his tricep muscle, and he has to scramble to abandon the abyss of his thoughts, his growing awe of her, and rediscover the course of this conversation. "Not like I didn't have the time for it."

"Interesting choice," Castle murmurs. He knows absolutely nothing about Romania, about the language, but already he's dying to hear the foreign words and phrases forming on her tongue and spilling from her mouth.

"I've been there, have some roots in the country, so I thought it was somewhat fitting."

"Exotic, I like it."

"Mm, you should hear my Russian."

Castle staggers to a stop on the path, the link of their hands causing their arms to stretch, preventing her from leaving him there to gape after her in the sand. But she doesn't appear to have any intention of going ahead without him, her smile seductive like a predator, wicked and knowing as she smirks back at him.

"You're like a living fantasy," he whispers, earning his favorite kind of laugh – the real, uninhibited one that illuminates her entire face.

"C'mon," she chuckles, pulling on his hand until he resumes their steady pace towards the beach. "I want to find a good spot."

Castle murmurs his assent, reclaiming his place at her side, regaining the satisfying heat radiating from her frame and the flutter of fabric to his knee.

* * *

Once they reach the beach, Kate continues on with him in tow until they reach the far side of the shore, near a cluster of cliffs, and the sand beneath their feet has shifted in color.

"Hey, the sand," he alerts her, but Kate only gives him a wink over her shoulder and releases his hand.

"Take some pictures for Alexis," she encourages, stealing the bulk of the blanket from his arms and stepping out of the way, allowing him a clear view of the blend of purple mingling with the natural strips of beige sand. He remembers seeing a few internet links about the oddly colored sand while researching Big Sur the week before, but he hadn't actually expected to come across any during his stay, hadn't expected for it to be such a magical sight either.

"What makes it turn purple?" Castle inquires while he uses his phone to capture images of the uniquely colored seaside along with the cresting waves, the combination of turquoise, beige, and purple stunning.

"It washes down from the rocks above," Kate explains, nodding to the large rocks and boulders peppering the cliff behind them. "The minerals in the sand mixing with the minerals from the rocks tint the sand when it's damp, especially after it rains. It's one of my favorite parts about this beach."

"Have I just learned your favorite color as well?" he quips, slipping his phone back into the pocket of his cargo shorts.

"Maybe," she hums, linking arms with him once he rejoins her, his heart skipping a beat at all the touching she's been initiating today. "You've got to get pictures of the keyhole too. Especially at sunset."

He's too sentimental, he knows, but it has warmth spreading through his bloodstream that she's planned a full day for them to experience the beauty of the beach, picked the most gorgeous setting he could imagine to relax and write in. Comparing her to other women is not something he should be doing, but he can't help recognizing that no other woman has ever gone to much trouble for him, not unless it benefitted them in some way as well. But Kate has no ulterior motives, doesn't want his money or notoriety, only his company.

It's then that he realizes how deeply in danger he is of falling in love with the woman he met hardly three days ago.

"C'mon Castle, I don't want lunch to spoil," she calls over her shoulder, tugging on the strap of her pack and continuing up the beach without him. It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, to swallow and shake off the fear his newest revelation has brought with it.

He only has a week with her, four days left; he won't take any of that time for granted.


	5. Chapter 5

Much to his surprise, the beach isn't crowded, only a handful of tourists milling around snapping photographs and enjoying the views. Kate picks a spot near the infamous keyhole arch, far enough away from the water, out of the way of the few photographers that stop to steal a few shots of the magnificent rock formation, but close enough to remain within the beautiful setting.

They unfold the thick blanket and spread it across the sand together, arranging their belongings between them and unpacking her rucksack that holds their lunch. He's pleasantly surprised by the simplicity of her meal, the homemade sandwiches, the fresh fruit and sleeves of crackers, the two bottled waters, and the delicious, garlic flavored side dish that doesn't yet have a name but has him moaning in approval.

"Maybe before you go, I should teach you how to make Blitva," she muses as he chows down on the simple but delicious turkey sandwich that she has to have seasoned or even marinated with something rich and mouthwatering, too good to be some typical store bought deli meat.

"Sounds interesting, what is it?"

"What you're eating," Kate chuckles, nodding down to the container of garlic flavored greens and potatoes his fork is currently immersed in. "Popular Croatian dish, one of my favorites," she explains, grinning at him as he attempts to devour his meal with manners. "International cookbook," she adds when he looks up to her with imploring eyes but a full mouth.

She's so ripe with knowledge, with culture, that he just wants her to talk all day long, tell him about nothing and everything as long as she never stops.

After their meal, Castle rolls onto his stomach, drops his cheek to his folded forearms and gazes up at her, resting in the shadow she casts across him as she packs up the leftover fruit along with the plastic containers and bottles, pulling out her language study material instead. In turn, Rick retrieves his notebook from the pocket of her rucksack he crammed it into while he was photographing sand earlier, digs around for his pen and opens to the first unmarked page he can find, but before he can begin to pick up from where his last scene left off, he's distracted by Kate arranging her body into a statuesque position, folding her legs and sliding her hands onto her thighs, closing her eyes and tilting her chin up to the sky.

"Kate, what are you doing?" he chuckles and she peels an eye open at his laughter, reclaims her paperback from the blanket near her knee and swats him with her Romanian dictionary.

"I'm trying to be Zen, Castle. I come out here to meditate." Huh, not what he would have expected, but he's not judging. "Stop staring."

"Can't help it, like to watch you," he murmurs, his pen still poised in his fingers, but his eyes remaining on her profile, the way the sun grazes the hollows of her cheeks, the cutting edge of her jawline, casting shadows where her lashes kiss her cheeks.

Maybe he could incorporate Nikki Heat's meditation methods into this book.

"Does this mean you're a Buddhist?" Castle wonders aloud, noting with secret delight that her lips twitch, threatening to break her focus. "Or, I know, you could be like the main character from that book, what was it… _Eat, Pray, Love_!" He snaps his fingers and Kate growls a warning under her breath, but doesn't open her eyes again and at last, he decides to allow her some tranquility, returning to his notebook with words already cramming the forefront of his mind, desperate to find their place on the paper.

He's accomplished a page and a half when he absentmindedly notices her shifting from her meditation pose, but he's too engulfed in the scene, scribbling out dialogue between his two main characters, to comment. He does startle when he feels something press against his side though, a gentle weight near the bottom of his curved spine, but when he glances over his shoulder to check, he sees it's her. Kate with her head propped atop the edge of his side, just below his ribcage, her body stretched across the blanket and her book open in her lap, propped against her thighs.

The intimacy of the act isn't lost on him, neither is the way the position comes so naturally, as if they've done this for years - strolling beautiful beaches together, sinking into the sand for lunch and relaxing sated and full under the sun afterwards, her immersed in a book while he's lost in another world through his writing. It feels too normal and the need for it to be a reoccurring event, for it to be _their_ normal, takes up in the form of a physical ache in his chest, pounding in time with his heartbeat.

Kate begins mumbling to herself, practicing the foreign words in bold, black print on the page of her dictionary, and Castle turns back to his notebook, taking a deep breath and attempting to return to the scene that played so vivid in his head moments before. But apparently, having his muse so close can be both inspiring and horribly distracting.

Eventually, though, her murmurs mixed with the crash of the nearby waves morph into a soothing soundtrack, one that allows him to ease back into the story, to write about Nikki and Rook - the hard edged, no nonsense detective and her journalist tag along.

* * *

"Castle," she calls softly, shaking his shoulder, and he lifts his head, as if coming out of a haze, to find her watching him. "Didn't want you to miss the sunset."

"Sunset?" he echoes in confusion, glancing down to his watch and gasping in surprise. "It's been three hours?"

He knows they had a late lunch, but _three hours_? He had wanted to do more with her before the sun set on the horizon, wanted to continue their adventure, but Kate doesn't seem bothered by his disappearance into a fictional world for the majority of their day together. In fact, she looks… proud of him?

"Just about. Got a lot done?" she murmurs, sitting back on her haunches and stretching her arms above her head, the hem of her shirt rising with her and exposing an enticing strip of skin above the waistband of her skirt.

"Uh, yeah," he manages, eyes darting back to his moleskin, to the black ink and block letters that he's managed to fill ten pages with, front to back. _That's_ going to be fun transferring to the word document on his laptop. "Way more than I thought I would."

"You'll have a new book in no time," she grins, gentle and supportive, and he wants to ask her again about his novels, if she's ever read them, if she _liked_ them, but Kate's already retrieving his phone from the edge of the blanket, placing it in his stiff fingers, and rising from the blanket.

She slips into her flats and motions for him to follow, not speaking, but pointing to the mosaic of colors painting the sky, the stream of light trickling through the opening of the massive rock outcropping. The arch in the giant rock formation is flooded with sunlight, golden and glowing through the keyhole that's earned its name, and he captures the image on his phone when she reminds him, coming to stand at his side amongst the small group of other photographers striving for the perfect shot.

"Breathtaking, huh?" Kate sighs once his phone is hanging limp at his side and he can only stare straight ahead in wonder.

Rick glances between her and the view that is indeed breath stealing, decides he can't pick which is the more beautiful sight. So he glides his fingers along the inside of her forearm until he finds her hand, where their palms meet in a familiar kiss and their fingers lock.

"Yeah," he agrees as she leans against his side in the strip of dying sunlight shining through the keyhole, bathing them in gold. "It's breathtaking."

* * *

He tries to delay the return to his cabin once night falls, inquiring about sights that fly by outside the car window, causing her to slow just a fraction on the relatively empty roads, answering his questions and feeding him more of her knowledge of the area. Kate's been coming to Big Sur since she was a kid, flying with her parents to their favorite vacation spot every summer, hiding away from the world in the woods. Of course, after her mother's murder, the coastal getaways came to a halt, the cabin becoming a home haunted by the love of a family now destroyed.

According to Kate, after completing his recovery and embracing sobriety, her father would still fly out in the winters when he had some time off from work, spend the holidays alone on the chilly California coast, but Kate has been the first to consistently inhabit the place in years, dusting off the pain of old memories, bottling up the joy they once held, and ultimately making the place her home away from home.

"Do you like it better than New York?" Castle decides to ask as she parks the car in the lodging area that houses a small fleet of rental cabins similar to the one he's staying in. They'll have to walk the rest of the way, the woods in this area of the forest too dense for vehicles, but he's grateful for the short path still waiting to be followed, grateful for the extra time allowed with her.

"Mm, that's a difficult question," Kate murmurs, snagging her rucksack from the backseat, fitting her blanket into the pack with her book, but Rick steals the bag from her before she can sling it over her shoulders, hoists it onto his own.

From his experience, most women would swoon over the gentlemanly gesture, flatter and praise him for it, but Kate only rolls her eyes and starts for the forest and the manmade trail that will take them back to their respective cabins.

 _I'm not like most of your women,_ she had told him yesterday, and it's so wonderfully true. He hadn't known how badly he needed someone so different from the rest.

"I think I'd still choose the city if it came down to it," she determines, holding to his elbow for balance as they cross over a thin creek streaming downhill. "It'll always be home. This is just… a nice place to go to regroup."

"And now the place of our meeting," he sighs, purposefully dreamy and wistful, earning another exasperated shake of her head and a flicker of amusement in the curve of her lips. "One day, we'll bring our great grandchildren here, tell them the romantic tale of our first encounter on the beach-"

"Castle," she growls, digging her fingers into his skin, piercing her nails hard enough to draw blood, but he can't help laughing at the turmoil plaguing her face. "We are not-"

"Shh," he murmurs, detaching her claws from his arm, and claiming her hand, already so accustomed to a habit that is all her fault, and releasing a breath of silent relief when she doesn't try to tear herself away from him. "Kidding, Kate. Take a breath."

"I hate you," she grumbles, contradicting her own words as she drifts in closer to him, bumping shoulders and hips. "And we'd be too old to hike through these woods by the time we had grandkids."

He almost stops dead in his tracks, _almost_ , but he forces his feet to continue through the dirt and weeds, to refrain from turning to look at her with wide eyes and a gaping smile that shows too much. That would make her words matter, make the thought of them growing old together a reality to strive for, and he thinks Kate would rather dive from one of the nearby cliffs along the coastline than even consider the idea of a future with him.

"Not if we start now," he throws back, equal parts proud and thankful when the remark flows even and smooth from his mouth, the hint of teasing concealing the underlying desire accumulating in his chest, crowding his ribs and crushing his lungs.

"In your dreams," she retorts, just as easy, just as playful, but when he does allow himself a glance of her, he swears he sees some of the yearning he feels in his chest hiding in her eyes.

"Only every night," he hums, digging in his pocket for his phone when the shimmer of starlight through the trees is no longer enough to guide them and the darkness begins to blur the path, blanketing the ground. He flicks on his flashlight app, illuminating the last few feet of forest floor left for them to cover, and Kate's hand squeezes his in silent approval.

"What about you?" she says before his cabin can come into sight. "It's only been a few days, but are you starting to like this place more than the city?"

"I'd like it even more if Alexis were here," is his first thought. "It's definitely a huge contrast from New York, an appreciated one, but like you, I think I'll always prefer the city. It's home. Big Sur, though, has proven to be the ideal vacation spot. Even better than the Hamptons."

"You have a place in the Hamptons?"

"Oh yeah, wonderful spot, right on the beach. Alexis and I go there every summer," he smiles, sighing as his temporary home comes into view, but she hasn't let go of his hand yet. "In fact, I think you'd love it there."

"Inviting me to your place in the Hamptons?" she chuckles, and oh, if only she would let him.

"We could alternate," he grins, nudging her up the stone-made porch steps bathed in lamplight and replacing his phone with his keys to unlock the front door. "One summer here, the next in the Hamptons."

"Castle," she murmurs, stopping him before he can drag her inside. He glances back to see her staring up at him, no amusement dancing on her face, no spark in her eyes, only the beginnings of a familiar deer caught in headlights expression. All this talk of a life that extends past the next week, musings of a future, both teasing and not, has her looking stricken and ready to run.

He's scaring her.

But he's scared too, already horrified by the alternative of a life that carries on without her.

"I should go," she mumbles, releasing his hand and curling her fingers around the strap of her bag at his shoulder. He lets her have it, doesn't try to hold her belongings hostage from her like he wants to, to keep her here.

"You sure you don't want to come in for coffee? I've seen the interior of your cabin, but you haven't seen mine, so it's only fair," Rick reasons, waggling his brow, but even though he gains a tug from the corner of her mouth, she still denies him.

"Next time," she promises, adjusting the weight of her rucksack on her back.

"Until tomorrow?"

Kate glances back over her shoulder, gnaws on her bottom lip before turning back around, bracing a hand at his sternum, right above his heart as she leans in, grazes a kiss to his cheek.

"Until tomorrow," she confirms, nose clashing with his for a second, breath skirting his lips, before she pulls away, descends down the stone stairs and disappears into the welcoming embrace of the forest.

Castle stares after her shadowy figure until she becomes submerged in the rows of trees and woodland that separate their homes. In the span of a twenty-minute walk from a parking lot to his cabin, she has managed to crush his hopes and reignite them with fervor, to convince him that he had successfully scared her off and then allowed him to have her closer than ever before. He doesn't know what she wants, doesn't know what the universe has in store for him after they both abandon the bubble Big Sur has so easily become, but of one thing he is certain.

The heart wants what the heart wants and his wants her.


	6. Chapter 6

She's already awake when he shows up at her cabin the next morning, sitting on her porch steps with a cup of coffee cradled in her palms, her hair in a braid down her back, and a tired smile on her face the moment she notices him approaching through the trees.

He had been expecting a frown.

"Someone's up bright and early," Kate appraises in greeting and he almost states her blame for it aloud, faults her for unknowingly keeping him up each time he attempted to close his eyes last night, but he merely rolls his eyes at her instead, plops down on the porch step below her feet.

Her blue coffee mug appears over his shoulder and he tilts his head back, holding her gaze as he accepts the offered cup and takes a sip of her coffee, humming at the rich flavor, the burst of bitterness and contrasting sweetness of vanilla on his tongue.

"You make good coffee," he sighs, returning her beloved caffeine to her waiting hands and resting his head back against her knees. She doesn't stiffen or shift away from him, much to his surprise; she does lower one of her hands to his head though, brushes her slender fingers through his hair.

A part of him wonders if he finally did fall into a restful sleep, her touch nothing more than a sweet dream, but the sensation of her nails combing over his scalp is too real, too good, to be a figment of unconsciousness.

"Want to go somewhere with me?"

Rick tilts his head back again, causing her fingers to fall away, straying to flutter at his ear. "Um, when do I not?"

She grins, downs the final sip of her coffee and nudges him away from her legs so she can stand.

"Are your sneakers pretty sturdy?" she calls over her shoulder before disappearing into the cabin. He hears the sound of her mug being placed in an empty sink, the rush of water from the faucet, and then Kate's footsteps milling through the main room of the cabin while he glances down to his shoes, examining the typical pair of everyday running shoes adorning his feet.

"I think so?" he answers, lifting his gaze upwards again when he hears her door click shut and her keys securing the lock. His eyes immediately dart to Kate's shoes on the wooden flooring of the porch, evaluating the worn but tough athletic sneakers tied to her feet.

"Don't look so petrified, Castle," she chuckles, bounding down the steps with her rucksack from the day before, now limp, empty, and hanging from one shoulder. "I just don't want you wearing a pair that lack good traction. You'll slip if you do."

"What exactly are we doing?" he asks, wary now, inducing another laugh from Kate.

She snags his hand as she walks past him, tugging him along, awakening the suppressed delight that had existed the night before, before he tried to force it down and ignore the yearning for more than the mere tangle of hands. "Have you researched Jade Cove at all?"

"Nope, the only thing I've researched is the rental cabins available before I booked a plane ticket."

She clicks her tongue at him in disapproval and he bumps her shoulder for it, receives another smile in the process.

"Well, there's not too much to do there, but it's a beautiful spot and I was thinking maybe you could even find a couple of souvenirs to take home to Alexis," she explains, turning her head to the side, avoiding the intensity of the gaze he places on her.

There have been a handful of instances within the last few days where the urge to kiss Kate Beckett has been a powerful thing, but now more than ever, as she speaks of searching for keepsakes for his daughter, he longs for the touch of her lips, the taste of her mouth.

He settles for craning his neck and brushing a kiss to her temple, grazing the soft shell of her ear with his chin and already feeling the heat of her blush emanating from her skin before he pulls away.

"Sounds like the perfect spot for our next adventure."

Kate releases a breath and nods, tightening the fingers ensnared in his, subtle but affirming.

"Any place is proving to be an adventure with you, Castle," she chuckles, throwing him a wry grin, but her eyes are twinkling in the sunshine and his stupid heart is suddenly more hopeful than ever.

Hopeful that their adventures through Big Sur are only the beginning of many more.

* * *

"You're trying to kill me," he grunts, gripping too hard to her hand, crushing the delicate bones with his white-knuckled hold, but Kate only laughs at him, reaching out with her free hand to steady his side.

"I am not, you just lack proper balance and coordination."

He knows now why she insisted on reliable footwear. Jade Cove had sounded like a lovely little hideaway coming from her lips, safe and welcoming but mysterious like the color itself. To say he was off the mark on that one is an understatement.

The place is gorgeous, he can't deny that, but the short trail down to the cove is steep, treacherous and narrow in certain areas with rocks that are slippery from the splash of the nearby waves. Kate is his only source of stability, her hand his lifeline as she guides him down the perilous path of the bank with the grace and ease of a tightrope walker.

Castle groans in relief once they finally reach the shoreline, where slick rocks still litter the ground, but at least they're no longer on a downhill trek of near death.

"Uncoordinated and overdramatic," Kate mutters, shaking off his hand and meandering her way through the rocks to a large boulder. Castle grits his teeth but mimics her steps until he's at her side once again.

"Okay, so what potential souvenirs have I just risked my life for?"

"Don't be a baby," she scolds, but her lips are curving with amusement along the edges as she bends to examine the rocks at their feet. He hesitates, but joins her, keeping one hand on the large stone at his side, just in case. "It's unlikely we'll find any up here on the shore, but there was a storm last weekend, before you got here, and bad weather usually washes pieces of jade up from the ocean. The wannabe prospectors probably scavenged the place already, but I'm sure there are some serpentine stones lying around and those are still pretty."

"I think Alexis would be happy with either one," he murmurs, already feeling the grin spilling across his face. "She loves stuff like this. I should have insisted she come with me."

"Next time," Kate assures him, meeting his eyes as she sifts a hand through the smooth, damp assortment of colored rocks, plucking a round one from the pile, brushing her thumb over the multicolored greys blending through the stone and handing it to him. "I like that one, looks like a storm cloud."

She's already redirected her attention to the rocks when he raises his eyes back to her, but he tucks her storm cloud stone into the side pocket of his shorts and doesn't mention how fitting it is, how easy it would be to compare her to the rock she just gave him.

But Kate Beckett is no storm cloud. She's nothing short of a hurricane.

* * *

Kate draws him to the waterline with her after fifteen minutes of searching the shore and coming up with nothing but the abundance of multicolored rocks that he collects a few of for the sake of a memory. The waves rush in to greet them, lapping at their ankles, drenching their shoes and splashing their legs, but Kate doesn't seem to mind the embrace of the ocean, relishing in it beneath the warmth of sunshine overhead.

"Hey," he murmurs, noticing a gentle shimmer of green beneath the receding surface of a wave and closing his fingers around the rock before it can be swept away. "Is this one?"

Kate lifts her head and shifts closer to look over his shoulder. He'll keep the stone regardless, knowing Alexis won't care whether or not the smooth, jaded stone is real or an imitation, but he's curious nonetheless.

"Do you have something metal? The only way to know is to scratch it. Serpentine stone mars easy, jade is harder," she explains, accepting the rock he places in her palm while he digs in his cargo pockets, rummaging through the meager contents.

"I have a nickel," he reveals, holding the small coin up to her, and she shrugs, hands the stone back and lets him abrade the glossy surface with the silver piece of money.

"Wow, Castle. I think you actually found a real piece of jade," she murmurs after a few hard scrapes that result in no effect to the exterior of the rock.

He beams and reaches around to deposit his newfound treasure into her rucksack with his other rocks. "And on my first try. I'm like a good luck charm, aren't I?"

Kate scoffs. "Don't push it."

They spend another hour scoping the waterline, scavenging the submerged sand and discovering a few pieces of serpentine and some unique looking rocks that he adds to the growing pile in her pack, but no more jade. It's not the value of their findings that matter to him though, not when he's having so much fun exploring the area with her, admiring the sheer beauty of the environment and the woman at his side.

Kate eventually steals his phone from the pocket in her rucksack, begins snapping photos of the cove for him, even managing to capture a few shots of Castle while he's lost in concentration.

"Why can you take pictures of me, but not vice versa?" he protests, stretching for the device that she holds out of reach with a smirk. The ground is uneven here, even at the edge of the water, but Kate still manages to move around with little effort and poised finesse. Completely unfair. "C'mon, _one_ picture."

"No, Castle," she huffs. "These are for your daughter-"

"Yes, but they're also for me. They're my memories, yours too. I can even email them to you and everything."

Something painful passes over her face for a split second, something dark and shadowy like a storm cloud amidst all the sunshine, like the stone still sitting in his pocket, but she conceals it well, quick, and gives in, traipsing through the rush of the waves and obstacles of rocks to eradicate the small distance between them.

"You're not going to give me your email, are you?"

Kate hums, burying her answer beneath the noise, buying herself extra time as she curls her fingers at his shoulder for balance and he decides to take a chance, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Her spine straightens at the contact, arching away from the embrace of his arm before settling back, attempting to relax within the loose hold. She's not uncomfortable, if she were he would have dropped his arm immediately, but she is skittish, afraid of him and - if he had to guess - what he could mean to her if she allowed herself to see him as more. More than the goofy tourist she met on the beach, more than the writer who's grown infatuated with her as a muse, more than a friend.

"So we're doing the selfie thing?" she questions, deflects, holding the iPhone up with the front camera displaying both of them on the small screen. Castle grins automatically at the sight, already quite fond of the way they look together, earning an amused shake of Kate's head for the expression. "Castle."

"Selfie, yes, sure," he agrees while she works to angle the phone, attempting to include the stunning backdrop of the bright blue sea at their backs and the multicolored boulders that emerge from the waves. "Here," he decides, taking the phone from her hand when she struggles, realizing the problem and using the longer extension of his arm to capture both of them as well as the scenery in the frame.

He hovers his thumb over the white button at the bottom of the screen, prepared to take the picture, but Kate is frowning down at her freed hand, as if unsure what to do with it. The reassurances bubble on his tongue, ready to pour out, but her fingers find rest on his sternum before he can open his mouth, catching in the neck of his t-shirt. His arm is getting tired from remaining in its extended position, but he refuses to complain, not when he's able to witness her slow sink into his side, the tension uncoiling from her limbs and slipping away to drown in the ocean at their feet.

"Ready?" he prompts, tightening the arm at her waist and feeling the hand hooked at his back clench in return.

He taps his thumb to the button and draws his arm back to inspect the picture with her.

"Kate, that is not a smile."

"What?" She coils her hand at his wrist to bring the phone and the image of the two of them closer to her eyes, scrutinizing the shot with a furrowed brow. "Castle, what are you talking about? That's a smile," she protests, but he shakes his head, repositions the phone to its previous vantage point.

"I want the smile you always have for me," he states, brazen and firm, even as she pinches the skin of his back too hard, almost has him dancing away from her and tripping over the rocks. "Your real smile, Kate," he insists, narrowing his gaze in the camera she's currently glaring into. "Want me to tell you a joke to help bring it out?"

"Castle."

"A dirty joke?"

"I hate you."

He waits, patiently holding up the phone, and finally she sighs, leans into him and smiles, soft and shy at first – like in their previous photo – but the curl of her lips eventually blossoms into a full display of white teeth, a mouth stretched with joy, and eyes that shimmer with laughter that lights up her entire face when he begins contorting his features into ridiculous expressions for the camera.

"That's the one," he chuckles, capturing the moment with another tap of his finger and lowering his arm with a grin. "You're gorgeous when you smile like that."

Kate stiffens at that and oh… he hadn't actually meant to say that part _out loud_.

"I mean, you know, because everyone looks their best when they smile, but - not that you're not always gorgeous, because you are, but then you - well, I -"

"Castle," she sighs, dropping her forehead to his clavicle in exasperation, her lashes skimming the bone, her smile back and pressed to his chest. Better results than he was expecting. "You're gorgeous when you smile too."

 _Much_ better than he would have expected.

Kate clears her throat and shifts away from him then, carefully stepping out of his arm, but still smiling even through her trepidation, trying for him. "So you've got your picture, happy?"

"Immensely," he grins, navigating past her with caution and returning to the rocky shore, seeking refuge against the large boulder she'd guided him to earlier. For once, Kate is the one who follows him, but quickly reclaims her lead, nodding to the relatively flat surface of the rock he's leaning against, indicating without words where they'll be resting for a few minutes.

He keeps a steady hand on her waist as she climbs the short distance to the top, pleased when she doesn't slap his fingers away, but instead holds her own hand out for him in return, helping him scale the boulder big enough for two. The surface they settle on isn't flat or smooth, weathered from time and exposure, but it's comfortable enough for him to sit beside her, appreciate the view of the ocean ahead.

"Thanks for bringing me here."

"I wish we had time to explore the entire region," she admits, bracing her hands behind her and leaning her weight into her arms while her legs stretch outwards, the toes of her wet shoes pointing over the edge of the stone. "There's so much you haven't seen."

"I'll come back," he assures her, and it's the truth. He has no doubt that she's right, that there are countless sights left to see and be left in awe over, but he doesn't want to experience them alone. "Promise to play tour guide for me again?"

"Sure, Castle," she grins, but she knows he'll hold her to it, and he hopes she'll stick to her word, that the next time he comes to Big Sur, it's with her at his side before he even steps foot into he woods.


	7. Chapter 7

After their morning at Jade Cove, Kate suggests spending some time at the nearby Sand Dollar Beach, relaxing by the ocean and sorting through Castle's acquired rock collection in the white sand of the simple but lovely beach. By nearly five in the afternoon, though, they've lost track of time and he's starving.

"You always take me to the nicest places," Castle murmurs, holding the door for her as they enter the pub she drove them to together.

"It's one of the only places around here that has decent food at decent prices," she shrugs, combing a stray strand of hair that's escaped her braid back behind her ear. "The rest are tourist traps. We could have just grabbed some stuff from the grocery store down the road, but your stomach didn't sound like it could wait."

He huffs as she pats his belly, teasing him with the quirk of her brow while the hostess approaches and leads them to a two person table near the back of the pub, right in front of small window that looks out into an army of redwoods.

Kate claims the place is good, but he still copies her order just in case, craving a satisfactory burger anyway, and a pint of beer. But he almost takes back his request when he listens to Kate order a water.

"Rick." She reaches across the table to trap his hand before he can signal their waitress, pins him with sharp but understanding hazel eyes that already know why. "You already copied my food order, no need to match our drinks."

"That's not what I was-"

"I know," she assures him, stroking her thumb along the bumpy path of his knuckles. "And I know you're not an alcoholic either. Drinking a beer won't offend me."

"Do you ever drink?" he asks while the conversation is still on the table, expecting her to bristle at the question nonetheless, but Kate only hums, tilts her head in brief contemplation.

"Not excessively. If the boys and I went out for a beer after closing a case, I'd have a bottle. I'll have a glass of wine at home every now and then. I'm just…"

"Careful?"

She nods, focusing her eyes on their interlocked hands, twisting and tangling their fingers as she speaks. "I know I'm not my father, that just because he lost himself in a bottle doesn't mean I will, but we both have addictive personalities. He turned to alcohol and I buried myself in my mother's case. I just don't want to risk stumbling into another unhealthy coping mechanism."

"What will you do?" Castle murmurs, flexing his fingers within the web of hers. "When you go back in the fall?"

"It's still a couple of weeks away," she mumbles, piercing her lower lip between her teeth, but he can see the anxiety crawling along the edges of her eyes like impending rain clouds, threatening to storm. "But I'll have to do some evaluations, ensure I meet all the qualifications to return to the field, meet with the new captain again." Her grip on his hand tightens at that. "She came to visit me once while I was still in the hospital, but I couldn't get a good read on her."

"She'll love you," he states without hesitation, earning a sad but appreciative twitch of her lips. "Seriously, Kate, I know we haven't talked much about your job aside from a few questions I had for the book, but you sound like you're an extraordinary cop."

She extracts her hand from his when their waitress returns with their food and drinks, wishing them an enjoyable meal before disappearing once again.

"My captain is dead because of me, Castle. What kind of cop does that make me?" she mutters, plucking a french fry from her plate and swirling it in the dollop of ketchup off to the side, but not eating.

"Kate, that wasn't your fault. There was no way you could have known about the deal Montgomery made," Castle argues, lowering his voice despite the lack of people who would have any idea what he's talking about.

"Are you sure about that? Because I'm the one who went digging through her case again, I'm the one who dragged him down with me, and now he's dead and I've got a hole in my chest." She pinches the fry between her thumb and forefinger before dropping it completely, cleaning the grease from her fingertips on a napkin. "If I were a better cop, if I were _extraordinary_ , I never would have touched her case again. I would have moved on, brought justice to those that I could instead of focusing on my own closure."

He wishes they were back on the beach, back in the sand where they had sat side by side and he could have pulled her into his arms, held her until she believed it would be alright. He wishes they were back at the secluded area of the cove, surrounded by nothing but rocks and the crash of sea waves. He wishes they were anywhere but a semi crowded pub on a Friday night while having this conversation.

"You deserve closure just as much as any other victim. You're going to push for it, just like you would with every other case, not because it's your job, but because you care. I don't have to follow you around a precinct to see how you approach things." Her jaw squares, but he doesn't stop, extending his hand past his plate to skim the outside of her wrist with his fingertips. "Most people come up against a wall, they give up. Not you. You don't let go, you don't back down, that's what makes you extraordinary. It's one of the reasons I know she has to be proud of you, whether you solve her case or not."

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, her irises matching the jade of the stone stored away in her backpack, doused with trails of blackness and splotches of gold.

"Now eat your dinner."

Her lips crack and her foot nudges his shin beneath the table, but the mixture of distress and shame has drained from the lines carved into her face. Only then can he pick up his burger from his plate and enjoy their meal together.

* * *

Kate scrolls through the photos he's taken on his phone since arriving while he finishes up the last of his fries that she has failed to steal, complimenting his mobile phone photography skills, and inquiring about his daughter. He reclaims the phone from her to find a picture of Alexis with an ungreased finger, handing it back to her and feeling his heart constrict at the gentle smile that claims her lips as she's able to put a face to the star of all the stories he's plied her with.

"She's lovely, Rick," Kate murmurs, waiting until he's wiped his hands on a napkin before passing the device back to him.

"I know," he sighs, smiling down at the phone and the photo of his daughter adorning the screen. "She'd love you, by the way. You're both-"

"Excuse me, Mr. Castle?" Rick glances away from Kate to see a woman standing at the head of their tiny wooden table, her hair flaxen and curled a little too perfectly for the wilderness, her skin severely tanned and exposed thanks to the length – or lack thereof – of her ripped blue jean shorts. "Is it really you?"

"Uh, yes?" he replies, shooting Kate an apologetic look for the interruption, but Kate's attention is on the blonde smiling down at him, her eyes like daggers as she assesses the woman. Huh. Interesting. "May I help you with something?"

The other woman beams, releasing a quiet but shrill squeal of delight as she drops a hand to his shoulder. "I am _such_ a huge fan of your work."

"Oh," he smiles, politely, holding back on the usual charm, hoping this woman doesn't out him to the entire restaurant. "Well, it's always nice to meet a fan, but I'm actually here on vacation, so if you don't mind..."

"Of course! I'll keep this meeting our little secret," she whispers, winking at him, but briefly cutting her eyes to Kate when she notices the other woman cross her arms. "Oh, I'm sorry, is this your sister? A cousin maybe? Nice to meet you!"

" _Sister_?" Kate scowls, narrowing her gaze on him, but Rick lifts a hand in supplication.

"Actually no," he tells the blonde who still has her hand on his arm. "And I appreciate your discretion, but my friend and I here were just about to go-"

"Oh no, that's too bad," the woman sighs, pouting at him with sympathy he doesn't want, but Kate is snagging her bag from the back of her seat, ready to rise, so he prepares to do the same. "But just so you know, my name is Aubrey and my dad owns this place, so I'm here all the time if you ever want to come back and you know, hang out."

"That's very kind of you," Castle nods, doing his best to ignore the implication in Aubrey's wink and managing to capture Kate's wrist before she can stalk past him. "Have a nice evening."

Aubrey opens her lipstick stained mouth to say more, but Kate uses his grip on her arm to jerk him towards the entrance and he turns his back on the blonde, exits the establishment and heads into the sunset after Kate.

"You're lucky I paid before we finished eating," he huffs, attempting to keep up with the pace of her strides towards the car. "Kate, slow down."

"I'm just trying to get you out of here before your newest bimbette informs the entire pub that someone famous is hanging around the area," she explains over her shoulder, but her eyes are slits, her mouth in an irritated twist, and he's tempted to tug her to a stop, demand she explain more than that, but she does have a point.

So he waits until they're safely in the car, back on the road that will lead them down the coast, back to the welcome seclusion of the woods.

"She wasn't _my_ bimbette," he states, but her fingers only tighten on the steering wheel, her foot pressing harder on the accelerator. "And I think it's quite clear that I have no interest in her."

"But that's the type of woman you usually go for, isn't it?" she answers calmly, her face a blank slate, and he sighs, hates that she must have seen articles of him in the papers from years past, proof of his playboy persona.

"Not in a long time. I think I've done a pretty good job of proving what kind of woman I want."

The drive is short, too brief for him to have a thorough conversation, and before he can even attempt to coax a response from her, she's pulling into the lodging area, parking the car, and escaping the vehicle like a caged animal finally freed.

He doesn't call after her, only locks the door to the rental car and follows her into the woods, allowing her only a handful of seconds to walk the path alone before he jogs up beside her.

"I'm not the guy you see on Page Six," he continues, watching her lashes fall with the downward tilt of her head, her hair released from her braid and sweeping forward to shield her face from him. "You know that by now and you have no reason to be jealous. You may not be mine, Kate." He sucks in a shallow breath. Too soon, his mind is warning him, it's too soon to be saying this, but it's also too late. "But I'm - I'm already yours so there is no need for you to-"

She comes to a halt in the middle of the trail and he fears he may have finally caused her to snap, that she's finally going to use her police training to maim him. He's sure of it when she drops her rucksack from her shoulders to the forest floor, the rattle of rocks penetrating the sudden sound of blood rushing through his ears, but then she's coming for him, fisting her hands in the front of his shirt and shoving him back against a tree. He stares at her, only allowed a moment of surprise, a moment to recognize the need flaring in her eyes before she's dragging him down just as she surges up, her body crashing into him like a wave and her mouth searing against his as it takes, punishes, claims.

Rick reacts without thinking, sliding an arm around her waist to keep her close, bringing the other upwards to cup her face in his palm, to cradle her like something precious even as her mouth sets him on fire.

She moans, soft and low in her throat when he slips his tongue into the wet, heated cavern past her lips, layers it over hers before stroking the roof of her mouth, sneaking his hand beneath the hem of her t-shirt and feeling her hips come alive, dancing slow and sensual against his. But he still needs her closer, still needs – so much.

Castle spins them around, pinning her to the wide trunk of the tree, nips at her bottom lip and groans at the arch of her body as he trails from her mouth to her jaw, tasting the salt of the sea air on her skin, the essence of wildflowers and sweat mingling on her flesh that he explores with eager lips. His best adventure yet.

"Castle," she pants, but he covers her mouth again, hums at the clutch of her hands still holding to his shoulders now migrating up to cradle his jaw, scratching along the field of stubble peppering his skin. "Oh, don't do that," she gasps around his tongue when his knuckles graze her abdomen, the muscles jumping at his touch to her bare skin. "Don't - won't be able to stop."

"Good," he mumbles, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, attending to the long abused flesh with his tongue, relishing in the crush of her breasts to his chest, the hook of her ankle at his calf. "I never want to stop."

That seems to spark something, though, and Kate lowers her hands from his face to his chest, pushing gently, but enough to have him backing off. "Rick-"

"Don't panic," he warns, resting his forehead against hers, trying to catch his breath with his hand still beneath her shirt, splayed across the taut skin of her stomach.

Kate sighs and he threads his unoccupied hand in her hair, cupping the base of her skull in his palm, circling his thumb over the thin skin behind her ear.

"I'm not panicking," she murmurs after their breathing has settled and the only sounds that fill the air are those of nature, the final chirps of the birds as the sun lies low along the horizon and the moon begins to rise. "But Castle, I can't do this. I can't – not yet."

"Yet?" he echoes, trying not to panic himself, tracing the shell of her ear while he awaits her response.

"Right now, I'm… I'm not ready for the kind of relationship I want, the kind you deserve," she confesses, touching her index finger to his chin, shame and disappointment bleeding from her dilated pupils. "But I don't want to lose the friendship we built over these last few days, Castle, it – you already mean too much to me for that."

Rick swallows hard, but nods, dusting a kiss to her forehead as he steps away, retracts his hand from her shirt. "I'm not going anywhere, Kate. Not yet."

He bends down to retrieve her pack from the ground, holding onto it for her and extending his hand like a peace offering. One she accepts with a soft smile of gratitude and a hint of apprehension. And oh yeah, she's silent in it, but Kate Beckett is definitely panicking.

"Too bad you didn't do that at the pub though, definitely would have shown Aubrey you're not my sister."

She smacks his chest with the back of her hand for it, but her kiss swollen lips spread with tentative amusement as they begin back down the path to the cabins, and it's almost as if everything has gone back to their dysfunctional form of normal within the blink of an eye, as if he hadn't just passionately kissed her against a tree, felt her skin beneath his bare hands and caught her moans between his teeth. As if it had never even happened.


	8. Chapter 8

Searching the coast for Kate Beckett the next morning proves extremely difficult. She knows the region far better than he ever will and he's left with nowhere to investigate but the places she's already revealed to him during their time together. But he still doesn't even know where to start. So he goes in order and it turns out that his first guess as to where she would go to hide is a lucky one. Castle finds her perched on the fallen redwood, five miles up the hiking trail she took him on after a mere day of knowing him, the same spot where she allowed her story to unravel itself into his greedy hands.

Rick takes a moment to catch his breath after he spots her, the five mile uphill climb still no easier than it was the first time, but she senses his presence in seconds, her shoulders hitching and her head falling into her hands.

"I freaked you out pretty bad yesterday, didn't I?" he opens with, hoping to lighten the mood, but she doesn't acknowledge him and Castle sighs, eradicates the last few steps of forest floor separating him from her and takes a seat next to her on the fallen tree, making sure to retain a decent gap of space between them. "Kate, it was just a kiss."

She huffs, raises her head only to shake it in denial. "No, it wasn't."

Rick tangles his hands between his knees, attempts to use his skilled writer brain to produce the right words, to say the thing that will make all of this okay. But she's right, it was more than a simple kiss between friends, and they both know it. To think it could be so easily dismissed was foolish.

If he can have her though, in any capacity, he could let it go, pretend it never happened for her sake.

"It didn't mean anything?" he tries again, earning an incredulous look in return, and okay, different tactic. "Fine, we both know it meant something, but what do you want me to say here, Kate? If you want to forget about it we can, we can move on as friends, just like you said you wanted. Or you're welcome to continue kissing me whenever you like. I'm happy either way."

Her lips attempt to curl for him, but her anguish overcompensates, swallows her up like a wave from the nearby ocean.

"You're leaving in two days," she sighs, her gaze tracking the flittering of birds overhead, traveling from tree to tree, twittering along cheerfully in the morning light.

"But we live in the same city," he murmurs, inching closer to her, grateful when she makes no move to drift away from him. No farther than she already has anyway. "This doesn't have to end once we leave Big Sur."

"This?" she parrots, diverting her eyes to the worn toes of her ballet flats, digging them into the dirt. "We don't even know what we are," she grumbles, irritation radiating from the tense frame of her bones.

"What do you want us to be?"

Kate inhales through her mouth, turns her eyes to the sky as if her answer lies in the clouds peeking through the trees overhead.

"More?" she murmurs, barely above a whisper, trapping that poor bottom lip between her teeth. "And I know we discussed it yesterday, but I still want - I don't want to drown us. All my relationships end the same and it can't be like that with you, Castle."

His heart is pounding loud in his ears, muffling her words, but he heard the important parts and she wants a relationship with him. She wants it and that's all that matters to him. Everything else, they can figure out; they can compromise.

"Then we don't dive in headfirst," he starts, scooting in closer until their thighs meet and their shoulders bump. "We take baby steps, wade into it. We can swim."

At last, she turns to him, sorrowful eyes clinging to his with a timid spark of hope threatening to ignite, hooking onto his determination like an anchor. "And if we sink?"

"Then we deal with it. I'd rather swim with you for a while and sink to the bottom than never dip my feet in at all."

"This analogy is getting weird."

He laughs, but finds her hand on her knee, twines their fingers in a loose hold over her patella.

"The point is that I think we deserve a shot. I'm not saying it'll be smooth sailing all the time, but I care about you, Kate. I want us to have a chance."

Relief and surprise crash over him in waves when she leans into his side, her cheek to his shoulder and her unrestrained hand curving over his forearm. Acceptance and approval in the touch of her fingers.

"Okay," she whispers into the quiet of the forest. "But we do like you said, wade in and take it slow. I'm still healing, Rick. I can't take on too much or I'll sink us," she confesses, but he shakes his head before the burden of her gunshot wound, the load of her mother's case, can weigh her down, and plants a firm kiss to the top of her head.

"We'll go slow," he promises again. "Nothing has to change, Kate. We're still just two people who met in Big Sur, you're still my muse and the closest friend I've had in a long time. The only difference is now maybe I can kiss you every once in a while."

A soft laugh crawls past her lips. "Is that so?"

"Well, I think it would be a nice little transition, a good way to ease out of the shallow end," he muses. "When you're ready, of course."

"Mm," she hums, curling deeper into his side. "May have to wade a little deeper, buddy."

* * *

"This is like three fantasies coming true all at once," he murmurs, earning an immediate eye roll in response.

Kate Beckett wielding a giant axe is both terrifying and strangely arousing. Mostly arousing. The drape of her loose blouse allows him to see the muscles in her arms, the subtle bulge and flex of her biceps, the strength in her exposed shoulders.

After their discussion in the woods on what he has officially decided is 'their tree', Kate had risen from the redwood and trekked through the rest of the path, back to her cabin with him at her side, and made a quick brunch for the two of them while he collapsed on her living room sofa, his body protesting at the week's intense shift in exercise.

"This proves how much I like you, Kate. I wouldn't walk five miles uphill for anyone else."

Teasing remarks like that still had her pausing, still had her teeth stabbing her bottom lip until the flesh was damn near bloodied, but the subtle apprehension was beginning to recede quicker, replaced with a roll of her eyes or a wry grin instead.

"What are you doing?"

"We need firewood," she shrugs, testing the thin but sturdy fallen tree with the weight of her foot. He had complained earlier during his time on her couch about the chilly nights and lack of authenticity to the gas powered fireplace in his cabin, but Kate had only waved off his pouting, told him that if he wanted a fire, he could come experience hers.

As if he was going to say no to _that_.

What he hadn't anticipated, though, was the work that went into making a fire. He hadn't expected for Kate to retrieve an axe from her father's workshop connected to the back of the house, to guide him deeper into the woods until they found a slain pine tree and deem it acceptable for chopping.

"Can't we just… pick up sticks?"

Kate laughs at him, the hearty, melodious sound that always has his own lips curling into a grin without fail. Even if he is the one she's laughing at, he'd be happy to remain her source of amusement for as long as she'll allow.

"That'd take forever, Castle. This is much easier."

"Are you sure-"

The axe comes down onto the tree with surprising force, creating a visible chip in the wood before Kate is pulling back, repeating the swing only three more times before the hefty wood is cracking, cut in half.

"Wow," he murmurs, genuinely impressed as he assesses the decapitated tree with a raised brow. He knows it must tug harshly at her scar, knows her muscles must burn with the exertion, but to witness the sheer force of her strength, the power that lies within her thin but defined body is nothing short of incredible. And hot. "You're really good."

Her eyes sparkle when she lifts them from the wood, gleaming with pride and something else, something dark and enticing that he yearns to explore. "Thank you, Castle. Want to try?"

Not really, but he nods, skips over the broken tree to stand beside her, bracing his upper body for the weight of the axe she places in his palms.

"Okay, now stand with your feet shoulder width apart," she instructs, feathering her hands at his sides, the heat of her fingers penetrating the thin material of his shirt, causing some of his focus to slip. "Now, slide one hand near the head of the axe, keep the other closer to the bottom."

The warmth of Kate disappears from his back, but she doesn't go far, appearing at a safe distance from his side.

"Aim where you want the axe to hit," she continues, her eyes on the positioning of his hand, her lip tugged between her teeth. "Make sure you've got a comfortable feel for it, that it won't slip from your hands, and lift it over your head. Then bring it down, quick and firm."

Rick follows her instructions, slamming the axe downwards and into the bark of the tree. It isn't as seamless as her strikes, the blade of the axe getting stuck in the wood, the force of the blow reverberating up his arms and settling deep in his shoulder blades, but she claps her hands in praise at the successful collision and he's able to ignore the ache in favor of her approval.

They take turns chopping the wood, Castle doing most of the brunt work under the guise of learning, trying to protect her still healing chest wound, and by the time she has decided they have enough for a lasting fire, his arms are aching, singing out in exhaustion.

"You're going to be so sore by tomorrow," Kate teases, stacking the wood for him near the cabin.

Castle huffs, leaning back against the porch railing and rubbing at his overworked shoulders. "Are you at least impressed by my manly abilities?"

"Wouldn't consider them very manly if a woman can do it better," she hums, placing the last log atop the pile to create a perfect pyramid beside the porch steps of her cabin.

"Touché." Castle sighs, wiping away the sweat pooling at the nape of his neck. "So are we building a bonfire or one in your fireplace?"

"My fireplace," she huffs, as if he's asked the most ridiculous of questions. "A bonfire this deep in the woods could be dangerous."

"But Kate," he whines, trudging after her as she heads up the porch steps. "I wanted to roast s'mores on an open fire."

He takes the open front door as invitation and enters the cabin after her, finding her in the kitchen, retrieving two bottled waters from the fridge.

"You can have your s'mores just as easily in an enclosed fire," she tells him with a pointed look, pinching his sore arm and pressing the water to his chest when he pouts.

Rick sighs and attempts to unscrew the plastic cap, hissing when his hand burns with protest.

"Shit," Kate murmurs, stealing the bottle back from his hand and circling his wrist with her fingers. "Oh, Castle, I'm sorry. I should have given you a pair of gloves."

Her gentle fingertips brush and glide along his palm, soothing the splotches of red, and he flexes his fingers, tries to eradicate the stiff ache lacing through each digit.

"It'll be fine in a couple of hours," he assures her, but Kate purses her lips, glances over her shoulder and tugs him towards the table where they shared their first breakfast only a few short days ago. He doesn't protest, following her wordless directions and dropping into the hard wooden chair while she drags the other one to sit in front of him. "Should I even ask?"

The corners of her mouth curl upwards, the smile flirting along her lips as she eases her knees between his and draws his stinging hand into her lap. "Hand massage. Might help a little."

"Massage?" he echoes, silently gulping down a swallow as her hands cradle his, caressing the backs of his fingers and pressing her thumbs to the inside of his wrist, circling slowly.

"Yes, Castle," she mutters, shooting him a dry look before returning her eyes to his upturned palm, trailing her fingertips over the lines decorating his hand and then squeezing each finger between her thumb and forefinger, keeping those pleasant circular movements going. "It'll help alleviate some of the pain, make the healing process a little quicker."

"You know, most days you seem more like a Zen student than a cop. Where'd you learn to do this?"

She scoffs, bringing both thumbs to the center of his palm and applying pressure that has him relaxing back further into the chair that he now knows her father built himself, just like the rest of the wooden furniture scattered across the home. "You know what the internet is, don't you? I had a sprained wrist once, looked up exercises and learned some massage techniques in the process."

"Mm, that's less Zen than I was hoping for," he mumbles, propping the elbow of his free arm on the table and resting his cheek in his untouched palm. "You're going to put me to sleep."

"That's what every woman wants to hear."

"Kate," he huffs, pinning her pinky finger with his thumb, grinning at her chuckle.

He swaps hands, allows her to work her magic on his left hand too, eradicating the foreign ache of hard labor from his fingers and the burn of unfamiliar effort from his palm.

"There, your delicate writer hands should feel a bit better," she murmurs, allowing one last stroke of her fingers over his knuckles before releasing his hand and standing from her chair, placing it back in its proper spot beside the table. "And now I have to make a run to the grocery store, do you need anything?"

He opens his mouth to answer.

"Besides ingredients for s'mores, Castle."

"Then no. But thank you for asking," he smirks, rising from the chair and stretching his arms above his head, feeling more than hearing his back crack, and oh yeah, he's going to reach an entirely new level of soreness by tomorrow morning. "See you in a few hours?"

Kate nods and walks with him to the door, and if they were together, doing more than wading, this would be the part where he kissed her in the open doorway of her cabin. But as her friend, he merely lingers on the porch, attempts not to let his eyes drift to her mouth.

"Thanks for the lesson in woodshop as well as the special hand treatment."

Her laugh is short and delightful, her tongue pressed to the barrier of her teeth, and he really shouldn't ask, but…

"Kate?" She tugs her bottom lip into that mouth he already misses, forces her eyes back to his, and he _really_ wishes she would stop that. "I know we've still got some swimming to do, but can we be friends who kiss goodbye?"

"Castle," she mumbles, already shaking her head, and he accepts it with a nod, doesn't try to push. Thinking her kiss from the day before could sustain him wasn't the smartest or most realistic idea, but trying to earn another and making her uncomfortable in the process isn't an option either.

"I'll see you in a few hours." Rick turns to trot down the porch steps, but Kate catches him by the shoulder, tugs him back until she can lift on her toes, smear a kiss to his mouth.

"Bye," she grins, dropping back to the soles of her feet and drifting back inside, closing the door after her, leaving him dumbstruck on her porch with the electricity of her mouth still sparking on his lips.


	9. Chapter 9

"She's extraordinary, Alexis," Castle sighs, gazing at the photo of the woman on his laptop screen with an involuntary smile lacing along his lips. "She even taught me how to chop wood."

"How romantic," Alexis chuckles from the other line, sounding slightly distracted, and he knows he's taken up too much of her time gushing about Big Sur, about his writing, about Kate, but once he started talking, he simply failed to stop. "Dad, you realize you sound like a schoolgirl going on about this woman, don't you?"

Rick huffs, closes the folder of photos he's transferred from his phone and camera to his laptop over the last few days. "I am not. I just… she's interesting."

Alexis hums, dividing her attention between him and her chemistry prep materials, the subject she's most concerned about acing. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I've just never heard you so… entranced by a woman before. Well, not over anything more than a woman's chest anyway."

"Hey," he protests, not exactly proud of his daughter's assessment of his track record. He hasn't been that guy for a couple of years now, hasn't signed many chests or attended many parties, shifting his focus to his family, to his mother and daughter, much to Paula's dismay. "She's not… well, she's gorgeous of course, but she's not like other women."

"Oh?" Alexis murmurs with intrigue. "Never heard you say that before… you must really like her."

"Yeah." Castle sighs, lowering his chin to the gleaming wood of the work desk in the office, staring past the glass that offers a glimpse of the darkened coastline through the mass of trees and their billowing leaves. He does like her, _more_ than likes her, and it terrifies him. But his daughter doesn't need to know all of this, she already knows more than enough thanks to his incessant babbling. "Should I let you get back to the exam studying, Pumpkin?"

Alexis makes a noise of indecision in response, an answer without a word.

"I'll let you go, but everything's going okay, right? Gram isn't turning the loft into party central, is she?"

"Dad, no," Alexis laughs, the smile in her voice contagious. "Gram is great and so am I. And _apparently_ , you are too, so enjoy your last few days. I promise the loft will still be intact when you get back."

"It's not the loft I'm worried about," he quips, listening to Alexis huff in response. "And I expect a welcome home party upon my arrival."

"You'll get a pizza from Authentic Nick's and a bear hug," his daughter bargains, causing his smile to grow. "But hey wait, didn't you mention Kate lives in New York too?"

His smile drops and his palms go sweaty. "Uh yeah, she's – I don't have her address or anything, but I know she lives in the city."

"Does this mean I should prepare an extra spot at the table for your welcome home dinner?" Alexis questions, and even though he can hear the playful lilt in her voice, picture the teasing tug to her grin, the idea has him deflating back against his office chair.

"I highly doubt it, but… but we'll see. Now, you have an exam to study for and I have a book to write."

"Hint taken," Alexis chuckles. "But Dad? I'm so happy you're writing again."

The taut wire of tension in his chest uncoils, undone by the soft sincerity of his daughter's words.

"Me too, and it's all thanks to you, baby bird. Otherwise, I'd still be moping around in my underwear."

"Interesting mental image."

Castle startles at the sound of Kate's voice in the office doorway, nearly drops his phone as his rolling chair jerks and spins while she looks on in amusement.

"Dad? Are you still there?" Alexis calls, concern and confusion laced through the question, but he quickly reassures her that he's fine.

"There was just a - a bird, it flew in through the window," he explains, watching Kate's brow lift, the smirk on her lips blooming wider. "Nearly scared me to death," he adds, narrowing his gaze on the woman grinning in his doorway. "But nothing to worry about."

Alexis hums in acknowledgement, already diving back into her study materials by the sounds of it. "Watch out for the wildlife there, Dad. It can be dangerous."

"Believe me, honey. I know," he mumbles, standing up from the leather seat and cracking his spine. "Good luck on your exam tomorrow."

"Thanks, Dad. Good luck with the wild bird."

"Thanks," he chuckles, approaching the smug figure patiently awaiting the end of the phone conversation with his daughter. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Rick ensures the line is disconnected before he drops his phone in the pocket of his jeans, comes to stand directly in front of Kate, leaving only a few measly inches of space between them. "Isn't it against the law to enter my home without a warrant, Detective?"

Her eyes flash at the title, specks of gold blending with the jaded hues of her irises.

"Not when the suspect leaves the front door gaping open. Jeez, Castle, I thought…" Her eyes darken for a different reason then, seductive greens mixing with murky browns, gold fading to dust, and oh… oh, he knows why now. She thought something had happened to him, that he was hurt or... worse. "I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Yeah, fine," he assures her without missing a beat, sliding tentative hands up her forearms to cup the sharp points of her elbows in his palms. "I hadn't even realized I'd left the door open. I'd been talking with Alexis on the porch, but kept losing signal, so I came inside without thinking."

"Rick, do you realize there are mountain lions around here? Cougars?" she demands, and he's prepared to make a joke of it, make her laugh, but she pokes him in the chest before he can even try. "What if a wild animal passed by and saw your door open, smelled the food from your kitchen, and came inside? You could be ripped to shreds or-"

"Kate-"

"It's beautiful here, but it's still dangerous," she emphasizes with another _hard_ poke to his sternum. "You can't be so careless, you can't-"

"Kate, stop," he murmurs, catching the offending index finger bruising his upper body and trapping it flat against his collarbone, but she's looking up at him like she's genuinely afraid beneath all the reprimand and reproach, as if she expected to find him dead when she entered his home. "I won't leave the door open again."

Her mouth is set in a firm line, her jaw tight, but she nods, diverts her eyes to the fingers pinned at his clavicle.

"At least I was lucky today," he adds, skimming his thumb back and forth over her knuckles. "Only a wild bird got in."

She hums, her lips threatening to bloom against her will, but she drifts forward before they can, wraps her unconfined arm around his waist and props her chin on his shoulder. Tranquility unfurls through his bloodstream at the welcome press of her body, one of his hands remaining draped over hers at his chest while the other cups the sculpted bone of her shoulder as his arm snakes around her, cradles her there.

"How's Alexis?" she murmurs, tracing the line of his spine with her fingers through the thin material of his shirt.

He purrs at the contact, can't help it, and dusts his lips at her temple, inhales the subtle mixture of sweat and cherries in her hair, sunlight lingering on her skin. "She's great. Studying like her life depends on it."

"She sounds like a really good kid," Kate replies, the rise of her cheek against his jaw indicating a gentle smile.

"She's the best," he agrees, biting his tongue before he can express how much he wishes she could meet his daughter, how sure he is that they would get along, how deeply he hopes for it. "Ready to head back to your place?"

Kate nods and lifts her head, unwinds from his arms and strays towards the closed front door of his cabin, subtly assessing the interior of the living room and kitchen as they pass. It's vastly different from her place, trendier and less authentic, less comforting and hardly his own. After all, he's been spending more time at her cabin than the one he's actually paying to live in. "Yeah, before it gets too late."

"Did you get the necessities for s'mores?" he needles her, detouring to the fridge and retrieving his specialty of lasagna that he put together during the hours she was away.

She has made meals for him quite a few times now, incredible dishes, and he knows his common Italian dinner won't compare, but at least he would be the one feeding her for once. For a woman who knows how to concoct fantastic foods from all over the world, she was still too thin for his liking, too hollow and bony in certain places, and of course he would never mention it, but as a recovering gunshot victim, he considers keeping her healthy a priority.

"Yes, Castle," she drawls, accepting and carrying the bottle of unopened, overly expensive red wine that the owner left as a welcome gift and holding the door for him as they exit the cabin. "Please just concentrate on not falling and taking our dinner with you."

"You sound as if you care more about the state of our food than my well-being," he huffs in mock offense, in fact being careful to focus on the forest floor in front of him, though, avoiding stray branches and rocks littering the ground.

"One will sustain me, the other will annoy me, which would you consider more important?"

"Katherine Beckett," he gasps. "The lasagna better be the one of those two options that annoys you or I'm turning back around."

Kate hums at his side, shifts in close enough to whisper in his ear. "Don't worry, Castle. You're proving to sustain me pretty well."

She meanders ahead of him on the path, the wine bottle swinging from its neck in her grasp, and he tries so very hard not to drop the lasagna.

* * *

She teaches him how to start a fire with logs, a match, and a small bundle of newspaper. To some, it may not seem like much, but he's never had to make his own fire, not in a fireplace, always able start the gas powered one they have at the loft with nothing more than the click of a button. Of course, he and Alexis have built tiny bonfires on the beach in the Hamptons before, but never with anything more than a few sticks and a lighter. Rick's never considered himself the outdoor type, but learning these different forms of rural living techniques with Kate has proven more than simply insightful. She's made it fun, intriguing, but then again, maybe it's all because she's the one teaching him.

"Castle, you're going to burn your marshmallow," she chuckles from the couch, sipping slowly at what will likely be her one and only glass of the rich, red liquid while he attempts to toast his marshmallow over the open flames of her fireplace.

"Am not," he throws back, rotating the fluffy white treat on the fire stoker she handed to him when he refused to use an actual stick. No need to be _that_ authentic. "I want it toasty."

He waits until the marshmallow is browned along the sides to pull back from the flames, depositing the sticky treat onto the graham cracker he has positioned on his paper plate atop the nearby coffee table. He places the slab of chocolate from the Hershey bar she brought him from the store on top and completes the sandwiched dessert with the other half of his graham cracker.

"Want the first bite of my perfectly made s'more?" he offers, holding the plate out to her, but she shakes her head.

"Still full from dinner."

"Does that mean you admit I'm a good cook?" he questions with a dancing brow. She had hummed and moaned over his lasagna while they ate together at the table, but he still isn't completely convinced if the sounds were made over his food, or for the cruelty of teasing him along with the foot that had found its way under his pant leg halfway through the meal.

"Don't let it go to your head," she murmurs, leaning forward to place her wineglass on the table before relaxing back into the couch. Castle remains on the rug of the living room floor, level with the coffee table as he takes his first bite of his creation.

"I'm a brilliant cook," he confirms around the mess of chocolate, marshmallow, and cracker in his mouth. "You sure you don't want a taste?"

"S'mores and wine, Castle? Really think that's a good combo?"

"S'mores go well with everything," he reasons with a shrug, taking another bite, feeling cracker crumbs and melted chocolate staining his lips as he chews, mimicking her noises from earlier and moaning low in his throat at the spread of the marshmallow sticking to his teeth. Kate rolls her eyes, but as much as she attempts to smother it, her lips are twitching with amusement. "Sure you don't want some?"

He listens to her sigh in what he assumes is resolution to give in and take a bite of his dessert, sure of it when she eases down from the couch to sit beside him on the floor, but she doesn't reach for the s'more he holds out to her, she reaches for him. Kate tilts sideways as she cups his face in her palms, slants her mouth over his and thoroughly slicks her tongue along the seam of his lips, wiping away the smear of chocolate.

She releases him, but doesn't go far while he tries to keep his head above water.

"Not bad," she mumbles her verdict, but her breathing is unsteady, strained, and her eyes are heavy, trained on his mouth.

"Kate," he murmurs, catching her by the forearm before she can decide to pull away, but she doesn't. She leans into him instead, snaking an arm between them to stroke her fingers at his ear, his neck, before they curl there with her thumb skimming over the tip of his vertebrae. "Are you sure that's the only glass of wine you've had so far?"

"Yes, Castle," she chuckles, remaining close, making no move to go anywhere, to run from him.

"Are we still swimming?" he murmurs, managing to deposit his plate next to her wineglass on the coffee table without sending his half eaten s'more toppling to the floor.

She nods, licking her lips as her nose bumps against his in intimate greeting. She's so close, the longing in her eyes radiating from her eyes and streaming around them both. He wants to trust that she knows what she wants, that she won't disappear the second he lets her have it. "Just drifting away from the shallows, right?"

Oh, but this feels so much deeper than the shallow end of a pool. The water isn't lapping at his ankles or even his knees; it's rising past his waist, up to his chest, where they could both drown if they're not careful. At this rate, she could tug them both under and he would sink to the bottom with her all too happily.

"I - I think we're doing more than drifting here," he points out, gliding his free hand up her arm, feeling the goosebumps come alive as he travels up to the side of her throat, tracing the smooth column with his thumb until he can cradle the sharp line of her jaw in his palm.

"Are we sinking?" she asks, her voice still delectably low and tasting of chocolate as it coats his lips, but her eyes are clear, concerned, but not clouded.

"Not - I don't think so? I just thought there would be more… wading."

Her lips quirk softly. "This still feels like wading to me," she murmurs, her lips brushing his as she speaks, and then she's kissing him again, light but with reverence, the kind of devotion he's seen her put into everything she does. "Swimming actually. Slow, easy strokes."

He groans quietly, allowing her to fit her mouth to his, sucking his upper lip between hers and working his tender flesh with her tongue, her teeth. And she may think they're swimming, but he's fallen still in the water, drowning in the sensation of her lips, her taste, and the truth of how quickly he's managed to fall in love with her.


	10. Chapter 10

Kate shifts in the circle of his arms where she had been lounging, shrugging out of the throw blanket they were both wrapped in and tilting her head back against his shoulder to glance up at him.

"Want to see something you won't see in New York City?"

"I've seen many things throughout this trip that I won't see in the city," he muses, but follows her lead when she abandons their place by the fire and tugs him after her as she heads for the door.

"Have you spent any time outside during the night?" Kate asks, trotting down the porch steps.

"No way, there are bugs out here," he informs her, grinning in the darkness lit only by the light spilling from the windows of the house when she groans in exasperation, and snagging her hand before she can disappear around the side of the house.

The space behind her cabin is mostly just more forest, more trees that shoot high into the night like skyscrapers, more endless waves of thick green brush and spots of color where the wildflowers wink at him in the darkness. Her backyard is a small clearing among the abyss of nature, a circle of extended brush and smooth grass that she drags him down to sit with her in.

Rick huffs in mock distaste, but he can't deny that the cool blades of green grass are soft, welcoming beneath him, probably used to the human company if Kate's love of nature is any indication. He watches with a barely suppressed smile as she falls back into the embrace of the earth at her back, gazes up at the sky and pats the spot beside her.

"Stargaze with me, Castle."

Rick tracks the line of her gaze, up into the blanket of night above, and that's when he truly understands the purpose of their field trip to her backyard.

"Wow," he mumbles, mimicking her position and easing down onto his back to lie in the grass. The stars above shine through the darkness, millions of constellations illuminating the black, brightening the sky into a stunning indigo he's definitely never witnessed in the city. The difference of stars and manmade city lights is unparalleled. Not even his home in the Hamptons can accomplish this kind of celestial beauty. "You always take me on the best dates."

The softness of her laughter only adds to the serenity of the moment and he finds her hand in the grass, brings her knuckles to his lips.

"Castle," she whispers, but she doesn't pull away, doesn't try to reclaim her hand, only turns her head away from the stars and towards him.

"I don't want to leave," he mumbles the confession, his speech just a little slurred from the wine, but she catches the words, her fingers twitching against his chin. "I don't want to leave this place, don't want to leave you."

Castle keeps his gaze trained on the stars, even at the sound of her stuttered exhale and the brush of her thumb beneath his chin, the whorl of her fingertip imprinting on his skin.

"You'll still write, Rick," she murmurs into the silence, her voice a quiet hum amidst the chirp of crickets, the rustle of leaves and the call of the ocean in the distance.

"It has nothing to do with the writing," he admits and he knows she's already aware of it. She's smart, savvy and observant, just like the character he's created from her; she knows it's bad, knows he's fallen, tripped and stumbled into love with her. He also knows how slim, damn near nonexistent, the chances of her loving him back are.

She may have kissed him by the fire, may have promised to swim alongside him, but her lips felt more like a parting gift than a beginning to their greatest journey yet.

"You're like a goddess of the earth," he sighs, too wistful, but the two glasses of alcohol he consumed have lowered his inhibitions and shredded his brain to mouth filter, allowing dangerous thoughts to slip free. "That's what I thought when I first saw you."

"Castle, you're drunk," she chuckles, as if in relief, allowing him to see her eyes roll at his assessment but taking her hand back, much to his dismay.

"Maybe a little, but it's still true."

"Mm, then you're just generally over dramatic," she surmises, returning her gaze to the stars above, tracking constellations with clear eyes.

"I thought you were a mystery I was never going to solve," he continues, quietly, missing the quick sweep of her lashes to her cheeks as she blinks, the tightening of the hands folded over her stomach. "And I know it's only been five days, but I'm already amazed by the depths of your strength, your heart... and your hotness. Especially the hotness."

A breath of her laughter escapes, tangling with the symphony of night sounds the forest provides.

"Well, you're not so bad yourself, Castle," she mumbles, her lips curved, but they fall into a frown seconds later. "But everything you're saying... it's not me. I'm - I'm damaged goods, Rick."

Castle digs his elbows into the dirt so he can rise, see her clearly and read the truth, the shame, hiding in her dimming eyes, the dark depths of her pupils.

"No part of you is damaged," he argues, but she won't meet his eyes anymore, won't divert her gaze from the star speckled sky overhead. "Kate, you're... I don't have enough words to describe how extraordinary you are."

Finally, he earns a flick of her gaze, but the frown is carved deeply in place on her lips now, the sorrow seeping into her pores and draining her irises of color.

"Do you know what I thought when I first saw you, standing there on the beach?"

Kate rolls her eyes again, agitation sparking in her features this time. "Castle, you already told me-"

"No, it's more than that," he murmurs, reaching forward with tentative fingers, grazing his knuckles along the hollow plane of her cheek, the protruding slash of bone. "Yes, I thought you were beautiful and mysterious, but it was more than that."

Kate knocks his hand away from her face, pulls away to shift into a sitting position beside him.

"What then?" she demands, her hands in trembling fists in her lap while her teeth grit in her mouth, hardening her jaw. "Tell me this amazing thought, Castle."

He swallows, summoning the liquid courage that started all of this but now seems to be long gone.

"You looked like salvation," he confesses, diverting his eyes before he can even finish the sentence, hiding from her reaction because he just knows it won't be good. "You looked like freedom and - and fresh air." His voice is beginning to crack and waver beneath the weight of his words, the weight of her stare that he doesn't have the courage to meet. "You looked like everything I didn't even know I wanted."

He doesn't have to see her to hear the hitch in her breath, to catch the habitual rise of her hand to her chest in his peripheral, protecting her damaged heart, and Rick braces his hands on the grassy floor, lifts to his feet. He spares one last glance to her before he can depart down a different path, taking in the panic swarming her eyes and the shock invading her features, and he knows it's too late to fix it, that he's finally pushed too far, said too much, and there's no going back. But he doesn't regret it.

"You still do," he says, forcing a smile for her, a sign that he hopes she takes as reassurance that they'll be okay. They can forget about all of this tomorrow, hopefully remain friends for the remainder of his stay, part on pleasant terms. But his heart is bleeding in his chest, punctured and gaping, anything but pleasant. Mourning something he never had. "Night, Kate."

Moments after he's turned his back, after he's made it back around to the front of the cabin, he hears the sound of her footsteps behind him, expects the soft taps of her shoes on porch steps signaling her retreat next, but the noise never comes.

"Castle."

He turns at her call, but she's already there, rising on her tiptoes, cradling his jaw in her cool hands and pressing a kiss to his mouth. His hands automatically lift to her waist, hovering there, afraid to touch, but her body is sinking into him, her lips soft but certain against his and seeking more.

"I don't want you to say good night," she whispers, lips brushing his as she speaks the confession like a secret, her eyes flicking up from his mouth to meet his gaze, letting him see all of the raw want consuming hers. "I want you to stay. Stay with me."

That's all it takes for his arms to come around her, drawing her in as close as possible while his mouth returns to seal over hers. Kate makes a noise in the back of her throat at the contact, a needy little moan he finds adorable yet unbearable, the sound of desperation.

"Inside," she murmurs, pants, stroking her fingers at his jaw, stealing his concentration while he tries to piece together her words through the haze of lust and longing. "Castle, the cabin - my bed, I want you in my bed."

That translates clear through the fog of his mind and Rick grazes his hands down her sides, down the taut muscles of her thighs. She's prepared when he hoists her into his arms, her legs automatically coiling around his waist, secure and tight as he takes three long strides to reach the cabin, climbing the porch stairs while he still can. Kate doesn't help, dedicating her mouth to the underside of his jaw, her tongue to the thundering pulse that throbs hard against his skin for her.

Castle places her back on her feet once he staggers inside the cabin, slamming her body into the door, effectively shutting them in. Her fingers claw into his back as her spine arcs, her leg curling high and slithering around to claim his thigh, jerking him between her legs.

"Kate," he breathes, burying his face in the warm skin of her throat, attempting to force the oxygen back into his lungs. She spares him no mercy, writhing beneath the pin of his body keeping her against the door, rocking forward into the cradle of his hips and dropping her head back into the wooden surface of the door.

He nips at her jaw in retaliation, scraping his teeth over the sharp angle of bone, relishing in the groan that rises from her throat, in the tear of her nails into his shoulder blades before her hands are coming between them, yanking at the buttons of his shirt.

She manages to unfasten two of the small discs before she gives up, rips the edges of his shirt apart and sends buttons scattering across the wooden floor.

"This is my favorite shirt," he mutters into her mouth, caressing the seam with his tongue.

"Mine too," she hums, shoving it from his shoulders, and he has to crash his forehead into hers once he finally has the feel of her bare hands on his flesh, mapping out the contours of his back, traveling around to splay at his chest. "But I like this better."

Castle nods, dislodging his forehead from hers to capture her mouth again. Kate lifts into him, pushing on his chest at the same time, walking him backwards and slipping her tongue past the defenseless barrier of his lips. His shoulder smacks into a doorframe after they take a handful of shuffling steps past the living room and he cradles her face in his palms before he separates from her, gaining a glimpse into the bedroom at his back.

Kate slides her hands down his shoulders, trailing over plains of muscle and heated flesh to circle his wrists, draw him inside the room with her, towards the bed bathed in moonlight and stardust near the window.

The sweater she wears is loose on her, oversized and falling off one shoulder, the fabric already begging to be stripped away, and Castle skims the hem with his fingers, eases it over her head when she tries to lift her arms but hesitates, the scar between her breasts eliciting a momentary wince. The plain black bra gives him a clear view of the knotted, red flesh, allows him perfect opportunity to dip forward, touch his lips to the sign of her survival.

Kate's fingers card through his hair and he kisses his way back up the path of exposed skin, paying homage to her collarbones with his mouth, teasing the undersides of her breasts with his hands, and seeking worship at her lips as she eases backwards, onto the full size bed.

"You're sure?" he whispers, caressing the surgical scar he had yet to see before now, slipping his hand around her back to trail up and down her spine, memorizing each knob of her vertebrae that arches and shivers under his touch.

"Yes," she breathes, dusting her fingers at his nape, urging her hips up to meet his once more, engaging in a dance that turns his blood to lava, molten and boiling beneath the surface. "I'm sure of you."

* * *

After three rounds with Kate Beckett, he's more worn out than he has been throughout this entire week, collapsed atop her and still attempting to fill his lungs with air, listening to her to do the same with his head to her chest, her thrumming heartbeat beneath his ear.

Castle lifts his body from hers, moves to shift to the side, give her room for breath, but Kate clings to his back, urges him back down to rest.

"That was amazing," he whispers, remaining on his elbows so he can gaze down at her in the moonlight, sweep her sweat dampened hair from her grinning face.

Her toes curl at his calf muscle, trailing up and down the back of his leg while her fingers traipse a path around his back, her nails soothing rather than scoring as they had only moments before. "I knew we would be. Should've done it sooner."

"No," he murmurs, skimming his thumb along one of her eyebrows, watching her eyes flutter closed and her lips slip into a satiated smile. "I wouldn't change how we've done anything."

Kate cranes her neck forward to kiss him, languid but thorough, before she nudges him to his side, following the turn of his body with her own until she's curled at his back, her knee nudged snugly between his and her chest flush with his back while her arms wind around his torso. He wants to see her, study her as she drifts to sleep, but her lips are dusting at his neck, soft and sluggish, and he can't help going loose at the touch, his limbs going slack and his muscles sinking into the mattress.

"Cred că m-am îndrăgostit de tine," she murmurs in his ear, the words foreign but gentle, soothing, and he memorizes them, repeats the phrase in her voice over and over again until it becomes a lullaby in his head, singing him to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** I would normally not separate pieces of a story like this, but the flow of this chapter called for it from my perspective, so for those interested, I will be posting an M rated companion to this story soon if you'd like to keep an eye out for that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Due to technical issues, fanfic net seems to have eaten my first attempt at posting this chapter, but hopefully second time's the charm...**

* * *

Rick peels his eyes open to the glare of sunlight streaming through the window, shining on his face, urging him awake. He knows she's gone before he sits up in the bed, but the instinctual disappointment quells quickly upon remembering that he's in her home and the realization that she couldn't have gone far. And not only that, but she had sworn that she was sure of him before they had become lost in the meeting of bodies and collision of flesh. He refuses to believe she would have abandoned him after that.

And sure enough, she proves him right.

Castle glances out her bedroom window only to receive a perfect view of her, folded in the same patch of grass they had shared last night beneath the stars, her body positioned in a meditation pose he recognizes from a day spent on the beach. He would have preferred waking to her beside him, but her figure bathed in morning light and swathed in his ripped, plaid shirt from the night before isn't an unpleasant vision to awaken to either.

He decides not to disturb her, slipping out of her bed and stepping into his boxers warmed from the spill of sunlight all over her bedroom floor. His entire frame aches, his arms heavy and sore, his back tight and wound from the hour spent chopping wood with her yesterday afternoon, but the residual pain is easy to ignore when he's standing in Kate Beckett's bedroom after a long night in her bed.

Rick takes his time exiting her room, examining the single photo framed on her dresser, a picture of a younger version of Kate with whom he presumes are her parents, all standing together on the beach. He touches his index finger to the younger Kate's beaming grin, caught in a laugh he's grown to recognize all too well, and studies the other two Becketts – the older man Kate has her arms around and the woman with a similar smile. They made the ideal family and it has his heart stinging for her, more than it usually does when he thinks of all Kate has lost in the last twelve years.

Castle sighs, exhales the lingering sorrow for her and wanders out of her bedroom, into the small kitchen he's become well acquainted with, and brews a pot of coffee while he waits for Kate to return. But after the coffee is ready and an extra fifteen minutes has passed, his eagerness overrides his patience and he pours two cups of the dark liquid, adds a splash of vanilla flavoring, and carries them outside to where she's sitting.

"Morning," she hums, cracking an eye open as he plops down beside her in the grass in only his jeans, offering her the mug of steaming caffeine that she accepts with a grateful smile.

He almost startles when she leans over to kiss his mouth, her grin blooming at his surprise.

"Morning," he gets out, watching her settle back smugly with her cup raised to her upturned lips. "How long have you been awake?"

"Maybe half an hour," she shrugs. "Didn't want to wake you, but I was just about to come back in, make you coffee."

"Want to make breakfast together instead?" he asks, taking a sip of the strong brew she keeps on hand.

"Yeah, I'd like that," she admits, unfolding her legs from beneath her and stretching them out in the shimmering dew of the still drying grass. "There's actually a new recipe I want to try out."

"I'll miss your cooking," he murmurs without thinking, noticing with a sinking stomach as her eyes fall to her coffee cup. "Just - you introduced me to a lot of new things."

"We still talking about breakfast?" she smirks, nudging his bare shoulder.

"Among other things," he plays along with ease, allowing her to steal away his coffee when she reaches for it, setting both half empty mugs in the grass before crawling into his lap.

"Oh? Like the part last night where I-"

"Yes. Yes, I loved that," he mumbles, already distracted by the exposed hint of her shoulder his shirt is sliding from, the fabric held together by two buttons that are doing very little to cover her. So much skin glowing and exposed, calling to him.

"In that case, I've already exercised my mind and soul this morning," she hums, shifting in his lap, beginning a slow rhythm that he already knows will spiral out of control. "Now time for the body."

Castle grips her hips, but she pushes him to his back, unfastens the lone buttons of his shirt and slips the fabric from her skin, blocks the sun with her naked body over his.

* * *

The smell swirling through her cabin is magnificent, the mixture of vegetables they chopped together, red and green peppers and onions mingling with the smoked sausage, causing his stomach to growl with anticipation. Kate quirks her brow at him, back in nothing but his shirt once again, and nods to the bowl where he's been beating eggs for the last five minutes while she adds in the last of the two cooked potatoes to the mixture.

"We're almost done, Castle," she chuckles, accepting the bowl of eggs and pouring them into the skillet, the satisfying sizzle of eggs, meats, and rich veggies crackling through the kitchen.

"What is this?" he inquires while he helps her sprinkle provolone cheese atop the blend of breakfast foods. Apparently, she had retrieved all of the ingredients yesterday during her trip to the market, already had the recipe written down on a post-it note stuck to her oven.

"Best breakfast of your life," she quips, stirring a wooden spoon through the delectable concoction, and Rick grins, dips down to smear a kiss to her shoulder and notices her fingers twitch around the handle of the cooking utensil.

"I don't know, Alexis's smiley face pancakes may have you beat."

Her lips softens into that gentle, lovely smile that always flourishes for the daughter she's never met but already seems to adore.

"Second best then," she concedes, holding out her hand for the salt and pepper shakers he's been in charge of since they started cooking half an hour ago. "And it's something my grandmother used to make for me when I used to stay with her on weekends. Not sure of the legitimate name, but she always called it a Polish-American skillet surprise."

His gaze flickers back to the food, his stomach growling at her back, and Kate elbows him away, murmurs something about grabbing plates, but his eyes are riveted to the shirt threatening to slip from her shoulder again, ready to reveal all that naked skin that feels so wonderful beneath his hands.

The craving for her has failed to subside. He'd stupidly thought that a full night in her bed - and a morning beneath her body - would be more than enough to quench the ever present desire instilled the day he first saw her, but it's hardly appeased his hunger at all. If anything, it's made the need roar up like fire from the pit of his stomach, flames branching out to encompass his entire body, demanding release through the kindling of her touch.

"Kate, you need to put some clothes on."

She glances away from the stovetop, back to him with confusion in her gaze, creasing her brow, until her eyes spark with understanding and then simmer with knowledge.

"You don't like me in your shirt?" she hums the inquiry, turning the knob for the stovetop burner until it clicks off and she's abandoning the oven, sauntering towards him like a predator, something carnal awakening and rippling through every inch of her body as she draws closer.

Castle backs into the counter, feels the wood dig into his back when she hooks her thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans.

"I - yes, but this shirt is - it's not doing a very good job of covering… much," he stammers while her fingers crawl along the waistband of his pants, her nails teasing up the plane of his abdomen, scratching lightly and eliciting the jump and tremble of his muscles.

She grins in satisfaction, her brow arcing, and her hands continue higher, short nails traveling over the bumpy path of his ribs, trailing up to his chest, circling his nipples-

"Kate," he chokes out, her name a broken plea on his lips

Even after he's already had her, she still maintains the ability to unravel him with such ease, to take him apart with nothing more than the fleeting stroke of her fingers to his fevered skin. He doesn't think he'll ever catch his breath at this rate.

"You want me covered up?" she questions, her words husky along his jaw, her lips teasing, ghosting along the corner of his mouth, but barely touching. Tormenting him.

He clutches her by the hips, jerks her forward and feels her hands spread wide at the muscles of his pectorals while her teeth nip and her tongue darts out to soothe.

"This is the result of you not being covered," he growls into her cheek, but she only laughs at him, sighing at the evidence pressing against her stomach, rolling her hips and snaking her arms around his neck in response.

Castle makes a noise in the back of his throat, automatically grabs for her thigh, waiting for her to stop him, to hum an admonishment into his skin and return to the food, but her want is just as strong, just as ravenous and insatiable. The work of her mouth at the underside of his jaw is silent encouragement, the scrape of her teeth to the bulging tendons of his neck confirmation that has him hauling her up, spinning to set her on the countertop.

"Food needs time to cool down anyway," she murmurs, her legs already rising to embrace his waist, thighs widening before clenching at his hips as she draws him in, allows him to feel the heat of her against his bare stomach.

So much of her is spilling from the shirt unbound and hanging from her bones, the two buttons trying and failing to conceal the swells of her breasts, the taut skin of her abdomen, and Castle leans forward, presses his mouth to the hollow of her throat, swirls his tongue there. Kate mewls at the contact, her spine arching for him, offering more, and he strays lower with his mouth, down to the supple skin heaving beneath the wrinkled plaid.

He nudges the shirt aside, nuzzles his jaw along the slope of her breast and listens to her breath hitch and stutter at the scrape of his stubble to the sensitive flesh beneath his cheek. Her nails are back at his neck, piercing skin and submerging into his hair, fingers tangling in the locks and trying to tug, bending to meet him when he finally appeases her impatience.

She moans as he kisses her, deep and bruising, gripping her ass in his large hands, practically lifting her from the counter as her arms wrap around his neck, her hands still lost in his hair, and her body bowed over him. All encompassing.

He's about to rip the damn shirt off for good, destroy the final two buttons on purpose, but the shrill ring of a phone coming from her living room has her jerking in surprise, gulping in air as she glances over her shoulder. But he's still distracted, drawn to the spot behind her ear that he learned last night elicits a needy whine or a sharp hiss – depending how far gone she is – every time he laves his tongue there.

"Castle," she pants, breathless but tinged with that gentle whimper of desperation as she clutches at his shoulder, but Kate is pushing on him, not dragging him closer and he lifts his head to her in confusion. "Your phone. That's your-"

"Shit," he gets out, helping her untangle her bare legs from around his waist, sparing a second to encircle the bone of her ankle in his hand and give it a squeeze before he jogs to the living room, finds his cellphone on the coffee table next to their empty wineglasses from the night before.

"You won't have service in here," she calls to him, her voice still pitched low and unsteady. "It'll drop the call."

The phone has gone to voicemail by the time he snatches it up anyway and he ponders his choices as he stares down at the missed call from his daughter. He knows service is limited here, that the only reason he can even have clear phone conversations this deep in the wilderness is because his cabin is enabled with paid cell service and premium internet access.

"Go," Kate states, hopping down from the counter, but clutching to the wooden surface when her legs take a second longer than usual to support her. He grins at the sight, but she hides her blush behind her tangled hair, straightens the mangled shirt while he approaches her. "I'll keep a plate for you in the oven," she adds, tilting her head back towards their breakfast, ready and waiting to be consumed. "When you come back, we'll – I mean, if you want-"

He slides his hand around her nape once he's close enough, drags her forward until he can wipe the streak of insecurity from her mouth with the press of his.

"I want," he ensures her, earning a puff of laughter and one more chaste kiss before she backs away.

"Then go call your daughter."

Rick nods, captures her hand and presses his lips to her knuckles, the back of her hand, and eventually the warmth of her palm when she flips her wrist in his grasp to graze her fingers along the edge of his jaw.

"Go Rick. From what you've told me, she'll worry if she doesn't hear from you."

He sighs, knows she's right, and heads for her front door when she reclaims possession of her hand.

"Oh and Castle?"

He looks back at her call, just in time to catch the fabric flying towards him. She's already sauntering towards her bedroom by the time he comprehends that it's his shirt now in his grasp, the one that had clung to her body mere seconds ago.

It smells like her now.


	12. Chapter 12

He jogs the half-mile that separates his cabin from Kate's, already dialing Alexis's cellphone number while he's still climbing the front porch steps, catching his breath for the first time all morning as he retrieves his keys from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Hey Dad, oversleep again?" Alexis greets him, gentle amusement laced through her tone and he huffs in admonishment, but telling his daughter he slept late rather than hardly slept at all is always a better option.

"You know me too well, Pumpkin," he plays along, easing the door shut behind him without making a sound. "Are you at lunch?" Castle asks, glancing to the digital clock on the microwave, noting that it's nearing one in the afternoon New York time.

"Just finishing up," his daughter confirms, but there's a subtle hint of unease leaking into her cheerful voice. "I just wanted to let you know that I checked the weather for Big Sur earlier and it says there's a storm rolling in around noon your time."

Picturing his daughter checking the weather for him brings a soft smile to his face, her natural care and concern never failing to warm his heart, but he doesn't want Alexis worrying about him. Especially not over a thunderstorm he remembers hearing about on the local news when he'd turned the television on for background noise yesterday afternoon, before Kate showed up.

His daughter tends to take on the role of parent far too often in their relationship and while he admires the maturity she's carried with her since her childhood, he often feels the need to reclaim his rightful role, remind her that she doesn't always have to play the adult.

"I heard about it, but it's nothing to worry about, sweetie," he assures her, wandering into the kitchen and snagging an apple from the bowl of fruit on the granite island stationed in the middle of the room. He wants to save his appetite for Kate's 'Polish-American surprise', but after a morning of intense exercise and no food to replenish his lost energy, he's starving. "I'll be sure to stay inside, though."

Alexis sighs in relief. "Good. No going down to the beach and getting swept up in roaring waves or hit by a lightning struck tree in the forest."

"And you call _me_ the overdramatic one in this family?" he mutters, grinning into the first bite of his apple, listening to Alexis's quiet snicker on the other line. He imagines she's on her way to one of her final summer classes already, lagging in the halls for his benefit. "Oh hey, before I let you go, did you take that chemistry exam yet?"

"Nope, I'm about to walk in right now," she informs him, the usual flicker of nerves fluttering through her voice.

"You'll do great, Pumpkin. No doubt about it"

"I hope so," she murmurs, the soft, appreciative smile he knows so well translating through the line. "Stay safe, okay?"

"Will do. I'll call you later tonight. Good luck on the test."

"Thanks Dad, love you."

"Love you too, Alexis."

He waits until Alexis has hung up first, always does, and places his phone down on the counter, strolls towards his bedroom for a fresh pair of clothes. Although, the idea of keeping the shirt on is kind of tempting…

Rick takes a whiff of the collar, pressing his nose to the fabric that smells of cherries and sex, sweat and grass. Tempting, but no, the devastated button down stripped of all its actual buttons is in desperate need of a wash and he's sure Kate would appreciate a new shirt to wear around and tease him with anyway.

Castle tosses his clothing towards the open suitcase in the small closet area of his bedroom and plucks an unworn shirt from the final few left suspended from wooden hangers, retrieves a folded pair of jeans from the shelf below. He's down to his final unused articles of clothing, having packed only enough for seven days, and as he steps into his pants, buttons his shirt, his spirits slowly drop.

He leaves tomorrow. This is his last day with Kate.

The thunder grumbles in time with his stomach and Castle exits the darkening bedroom, making a detour into his office before he can start back to Kate's. He has no plans of returning to his own cabin tonight and he doesn't think she'll want him to, so he grabs his messenger bag from the bottom desk drawer, slips his notebook in the front pocket and unplugs his laptop.

A lazy day inside with her while a storm washes over the world outside sounds heavenly, the picture of her lying next to him on the couch as he writes like she had on the beach filling his mind all too easily. Her Romanian dictionary in her lap, the soft murmurs of another language slipping past her lips-

Castle pauses, the whispered words of another language flashing bright in his mind, and he quickly drops his bag to the floor, jerkily flips his laptop open.

Her words from the night before flood back in, revived and playing on a loop through his mind, her voice still raspy and warm against his neck. There's not a chance in hell he could decipher the foreign language into an English translation on his own, but Google Translate might help.

Rick repeats the words into the computer's microphone to the best of his ability, his tongue stumbling awkwardly over each syllable, but apparently, it's enough for the language conversion app.

His breath catches hard in his lungs and - and there has to be a mistake. She wouldn't... she wouldn't admit something like that aloud, not so soon, not even in another language.

Would she?

Rick repeats the words again, but receives the same result:

 _I think I have fallen in love with you._

* * *

Castle sprints back to her cabin, his messenger bag clutched to his chest beneath his sopping shirt, his best attempt to protect it from the increasing raindrops falling from the sky. He had become caught up in her confession, losing track of time as he repeated the broken words into his computer's microphone multiple times to ensure he wasn't horribly mistaken, but each result was the same.

Kate Beckett had breathed loved into his skin before he'd drifted to sleep last night.

He grunts in relief once her cabin finally comes into view through the thickening sheets of pelting rain, hastens his pace to reach shelter from the storm. Kate must hear his stumbling on her porch steps, swinging her front door open in surprise by the time he staggers onto the landing.

"Castle, what are you doing in the storm?" she demands, slipping outside to meet him under the awning, eyes darting between him and the worsening weather. "I know you were eager to try my breakfast special, but we could have just-"

"You're in love with me?"

The words fall graceless and jagged from his mouth, blurted over the rumble of the swelling storm and amidst the world of movement around them, Kate goes very still. Lightning flashes with the panic in her eyes, illuminating the dilated pupils and parted lips, and if he thought he had seen her terrified before... those instances were nothing in comparison to the look on her face now.

A deafening crackle of thunder snaps her out of it and she reaches for him by reflex, draws him inside as the rain starts to fly sideways with the strong wind, sending a shudder down her spine when it sweeps over them both. But her eyes are downcast, refusing to meet his gaze, and his anxiety skyrockets.

What the hell was he thinking? He's supposed to be a best selling author; couldn't he have at least presented the question without appearing so desperate, so needy and pitiful?

"I'm sorry," he throws out, no more elegant than his last statement. "I – I didn't mean to just… but I heard you last night."

Kate presses her back against the closed door, her eyes falling closed and her breath leaving her lungs on a heavy exhale through her nose, but her brow knits at the statement.

"And you understood me?"

"No," he admits, swallowing down the raindrops clinging to his lips, clutching hard at the messenger bag still plastered to his chest. "The words - they just stuck with me, so I looked them up out of curiosity."

"Castle," she murmurs and oh, oh no… her voice is soft with anguish, with the beginnings of rejection. She's going to deny him, of the truth or her love. Maybe both.

"I fell for you too," he gets out before she can, withdrawing his laptop bag from beneath his shirt and depositing it to the floor, away from the puddle he's created in the entryway. Kate is watching him like the wild animal he met on the beach six days ago, fight or flight arguing for dominance in her eyes, but he steps in close, towers over her body that stands strong and tall against the door. "I'm in love with you, Kate."

"Castle," she chokes out, bottom lip quivering, but she pins it with her teeth, blinks away the unexpected shimmer in her eyes. "Rick-"

"No," he quiets her, lifting his chilled hands to her jaw, feeling the shiver spiral down her spine, and her hands rise to cover his slick forearms. He prepares for her to shove him away, but her fingers hold tight to his skin. "I'm not afraid to say it anymore, I love you."

Kate detaches a hand from his arm, raises her fingers to trickle over his lips, expanding them to dust along the corner of his mouth and spread out over his cheek. He doesn't try to stop her, to rush her, allows the touch of her fingers to his dripping skin, allows her the time to sort through the chaos he probably caused to explode through her mind.

"This doesn't have to be it," he adds, just in case, the need to convince her that whatever doubts she may have are conquerable. "I know it's only been a week, and I know that how quick we happened, how intense we were - are - scares you. It scares me too," he confesses, and it's the truth. He's had whirlwind romances before, but never nothing like this, never something that he wanted to last. Never something he thought could last forever. "But I don't want this to end when I leave for New York tomorrow."

Kate worries her bottom lip, ready to gnaw the mistreated flesh to bits by now, and he places his fingers beneath her chin, grazes his thumb over the mauled lip until she lets it free.

"Do you?"

The breath rattles past her lips, a cool wisp of air that has goosebumps rising on his neck, while her fingers roam to curl at his ear, her thumb caressing the lobe, and she shakes her head.

Hope spreads from his chest, through his bloodstream, lacing through his veins and brimming beneath his skin.

"No," she whispers, quiet terror in the admission, but she swallows it down with determination. Kate flicks her eyes to his mouth and leans in, but doesn't crash against him like he expects. Her lips are a gentle caress on his, a breath of a kiss that has his heart rate accelerating and the hope in his system running wild. "No, I want you. I love you."


	13. Chapter 13

For a split second, they're both still, frozen as her words echo in the silence, but she doesn't allow it to last long. The hands at his face draw him down and he wraps his arms around her, crushes her body against his as she kisses him, sips the rain from his lips and murmurs the words like a mantra into his mouth.

 _I love you._

"Are we still swimming?" she gasps before they can go too far, his cold hands already beneath the hem of her t-shirt, stealing the warmth from her skin. "Still don't want to sink us, Castle."

"No," he decides, feeling her stiffen in his embrace, but lifting a hand to stroke through her hair, pulling back from the altar of her lips to meet her wide eyes. "A relationship requires a lot of swimming, a lot of effort, but right now we're just… drifting. Easy and buoyant."

Relief spreads through her eyes and Kate laces her arms around his neck, presses her lips to the hinge of his jaw and suckles at the rain still clinging to his skin.

"Drifting through the waves?" she hums, fingers toying with the soaked hairs at the base of his skull. "Sounds nice."

Castle agrees, nuzzling the heated skin of her neck in return, chuckling when she shivers.

"But soon enough we'll have a puddle large enough to float in if you don't dry off," she teases, nipping at the lobe of his ear before stepping back, lowering her arms from his shoulders to pluck at the waterlogged fabric clinging to his frame. "I have some clothes you could borrow."

"I don't think I'll be the only one changing." He nods to the front of her oversized t-shirt, the wet stains from where he held her. Kate huffs, tugging the damp fabric from her body and glaring up at him with mock indignation as she starts towards her bedroom.

The storm has grown violent and he watches from her bed as it rages on outside, shaking the trees and drowning wildflowers while Kate searches through her parent's bedroom for an extra set of clothes. He had stripped of his drenched shirt and soggy jeans in the bathroom, hung the wet clothes over the shower curtain rod to dry and wrapped himself in a towel while he waited for Kate, running the cotton towel through his hair before placing it beneath him on the bed so the residual rainwater clinging to his damp boxers doesn't soak into her sheets.

She returns to her room with a pair of sweatpants and a large sweatshirt draped over her arm, extending them to him with a small smile. "My dad shouldn't mind."

"You sure? I can just-"

"Castle."

He huffs, tugging the sweatshirt on over his head first before standing to step into the pants. It's college wear, he realizes, studying the bold letters printed across the front of the sweatshirt, the school's seal on the hip of the pants.

"Stanford?"

Her smile turns reminiscent, mournful but tender. "Before my mom died, I wanted to follow in her footsteps, go into law and become the first female Chief Justice. So when I got into Stanford, my parents were so proud, they ordered all of this ridiculous campus pride attire."

He grins, rolls the worn fabric of the sleeves up to his elbows. "It was a good investment. These are extremely comfy."

Kate steps into him, her arms banding around his waist and her head coming to a rest on his chest. He drops his chin to her crown, inhaling deeply and feeling the contentment seep into his bones.

"I'm glad I found you on the beach," he sighs, tracing her gently curved spine through the thin material of the dry shirt she's changed into. "Glad I decided to come stalk you."

She scoffs a laugh against his throat, shakes her head but presses a kiss to his Adam's apple.

"Wonderful way to describe our story, Castle."

He draws his head back so he can glance down at her, one of his hands rising to cradle the back of her skull, to soak in the smile free of care or concern. "I like our story. Couldn't have written it better myself."

Her eyes roll, but her smile fails to disappear as she steps back from the embrace, snagging his hand instead and drawing him out of her bedroom.

* * *

After he's consumed two servings of her mouthwatering Polish-American surprise for lunch, they end up lounging on the couch together, lulled by the howl of the wind and the white noise of the unrelenting rain of the storm. Rick retrieves his laptop from his still damp bag, thankful for the waterproof covering that protected it from the rain, and props it on the arm of her sofa, positioned to write but he fails to add much more to the opened word document once Kate's curled against him.

The storm seems to encourage her newborn habit of cuddling into his side, propping her chin on his shoulder and allowing the rest of her body to huddle beside him, the warmth of her skin seeping through his borrowed clothes. Castle keeps one hand propped on his laptop, but drapes the other over her bent knees, tracing the bone with his thumb and listening to her sigh, feeling the heat of her breath fan out over his neck. Inspiring yet distracting.

"It won't be like this once we go back," she murmurs, solemn but thoughtful, and Castle tightens his hold on her knee. "I just mean that I'll have work and you'll have your own life to take care of-"

"Kate-"

She shushes him, brushing her hand down his arm to slide her fingers between the ones splayed at her knee. "I'm not panicking, Rick. It's just an observation," she murmurs, flicking her eyes between him and the open laptop screen, her gaze lazily drifting over the first chapter of _Heat Wave._ "I've gotten used to spending days doing nothing but exploring with you."

Relief spreads slow but fiercely through his body, allowing him to relax back into the couch cushions and the blanket of her at his side. He can work with this – he can figure out a way for them to compromise between her demanding detective hours and the time he devotes to his writing, to his family and the responsibilities that come with being a parent, he can handle the shift that will occur once they're back in the city, back in their normal lives and routines, as long as she remains open and willing to put in the work. And so far, she is, swimming right alongside him without trouble.

"What if when we're both back in New York, after you're settled back into your work, we explore the city together whenever we're both free?" he muses, absentmindedly mapping the muscle of her outer thigh while he pictures relearning the city he's called home since childhood with her at his side, experiencing the familiar streets and landmarks with fresh eyes.

Kate sucks in a soft breath and he blinks, the too clear image of the two of them strolling hand in hand through Manhattan dissolving before he rolls his head towards her in concern, but her gaze is ripe with something tender and light like adoration, shimmering with approval as she cranes her neck forward to smear a kiss to his mouth.

"I'd love that, Castle."

The grin stretches his lips and he lifts his arm from her lap to coil the limb around her shoulders, stroking the length of her spine and toying with the ends of her long hair.

"And maybe Alexis could come with us on some of these explorations," he adds, trying not to hold his breath as he awaits her reaction, but Kate doesn't hesitate, her gentle smile actually blooming wider.

"Yeah, that could be great," she agrees, curling her knees in close enough to brush along the side of his ribs. "Speaking of Alexis, how much does she know?"

"How do you know I've told her anything?" he hums, diverting his eyes to his laptop once more, but practically feeling her eyes roll.

"Castle, you told me that you and your daughter tell each other everything."

"Mm, yeah. Mother calls it the peapod bond."

"So I have a feeling that the members of your pod know you haven't been going solo these last few days."

A laugh breaches his lips and her smile touches his chest, her cheek rising against his clavicle.

"I did mention you to Alexis a couple of times," he admits with a nod. "I didn't go into any specifics, but she knows I'm… smitten with you."

"Smitten?" she chuckles, shifting back a little so she can meet his gaze with amusement sparkling in hers, shielding the dull glimmer of uncertainty. "And is she okay with that?"

"Yes," he murmurs, his fingers finding refuge on the sharp bone of her hip and squeezing in reassurance. "Of course, she hasn't met you yet, so I'm sure she hasn't formed a solid opinion, but Kate, you make me happy and that's all that matters. Alexis will see that instantly."

He tracks the thick bob of her throat with his gaze, the nervous swallow that trembles down the path of her trachea, and watches her eyes fall to his chest, her fingers rising to trace the letters of the sweatshirt. "But what if - I just don't want to upset that bond, Rick. I know how valuable it is."

"I've been with quite a few women over the years," he confesses, clutching her hip again when her jaw squares at the turn the conversation has taken. "And Alexis has never been a true fan of a single one of them. She hardly likes her own mother most of the time," he sighs and she softens a little at that, her outlining hand drifting to stroke at his side in comfort. "The point is that there's a reason Alexis has never really approved of my past girlfriends."

"And why's that?" she mumbles when he pauses for too long, mostly for dramatic effect, but also to earn the upward flicker of her eyes to his.

"She knew that none of those women would make me happy, not for more than a couple of weeks. They weren't right, they… they didn't want the person behind the Richard Castle persona. But you're the opposite." Emotion bubbles in his chest as the words slip past his lips, the gravity of these admissions hitting him harder than he expected. He's been in a handful of serious relationships since his college sweetheart, Kyra Blaine, the woman he thought could have been 'the one'. He'd married Meredith, harbored true hope that they might make it work, did the same with Gina, but practically every other woman has been a fling, a nice distraction. But the woman next to him is so much more. "You love me, Kate. And I know it's only been a week, but you already love me in a way that no other woman ever has, ever could."

"Castle." His name shivers past her lips, choked but soft, and he leans forward, presses his lips to her forehead. It's too fast, he's saying too much, but it's true. All of it. Kate Beckett may have been untouchable in the beginning, wholly unattainable, but now those walls that had been constructed around her healing heart have come down for him, reduced to dust and rubble at their feet. And with nothing holding her back, holding her away, she lets him feel how much she can love him, lets him have every piece of her and greedily accepts every piece of him in return. Giving and taking, like a partnership.

"That's why my daughter will accept you. As soon as she meets you, gets to know you and sees how wonderful you are, how much you care, she'll love you almost as much as I do."

He welcomes her when she swings her legs to drape over his lap and winds her arms around his neck, and he finally abandons his laptop completely, all hopes of writing anytime soon vanished, and envelopes her close against his chest, feels her heart beating strong and swift through her ribcage to meet his.

"There's room for you in the peapod, Kate." She chokes a laugh into his shoulder and he grins, smudges his lips at her temple. "If you want it, of course."

"I want it," she breathes, grazing her fingers up the path of his vertebrae to sweep along his nape. "It scares the shit out of me, but I want it."

He's the one to release a strangled laugh this time, loosening his grip on her when she pulls back, her arms still around his neck but her eyes trained on his face, searching.

"Just like we talked about yesterday," he reminds her, brushing back the loose waves of her hair and she nods, shifts in close once more, embracing but huddling against his chest, similar to how Alexis sometimes does when seeking comfort or reassurance. So he reassures the woman in his arms, tucks her in and holds her tight and hopes she can absorb his belief in her, in them and the future he already wants so much it's almost painful as the soundtrack of the storm outside begins to dull and quiet. "We won't sink."


	14. Chapter 14

Kate stretches out along the length of the couch after her muscles begin to cramp from remaining in his arms, her head dropping to rest atop his thigh while her legs extend along the third cushioned seat of the sofa, feet propped on the arm of the furniture. He takes the shift as silent indication that he should finally get some writing done and tears his attention away from the riot of her hair spilling over his knee and adjusts his fingers on the keyboard instead.

He hears her practicing her Romanian, the familiar pronunciations twining with the clacking of typed words that continue to spin the story of Nikki and Rook, inspiration provided from the night before and the morning after flooding from his fingertips, describing the character's long awaited coupling with detail that he'll probably have to edit out later.

He still can't believe he's managed to write at least half of his new novel since meeting her, half of an entire book done within six days all because of her. The story's still rough, in definite need of editing and the atmosphere of the city to add the feel of authenticity his books are famous for, but the outline is there, the ideas and the characters along with their unfurling story in place.

"Nikki better not be doing the same thing to Rook that I did to you," she hums and he nearly startles, glancing over to see Kate lifting on her elbow to swap her Romanian dictionary for a thick novel that he's pretty sure is Russian literature that he noticed resting on the edge of the coffee table.

"Stop sneaking peeks at my work," he huffs, angling his laptop away from her and repressing a smile when she laughs, settles back down and returns the warmth of her head to his thigh.

"Thought I was your muse, doesn't that entail some perks and privileges?" she grumbles, bending her knees to prop the book on her thighs.

"Oh, many," he smirks, gaining a pinch to his side. "But spoilers are not one of them."

"Mm, should have slept with Patterson instead."

Castle gasps, jerking his focus from the word filled screen to glare down at her grinning face. "Katherine Beckett, take that back."

Kate hums, as if in contemplation, but her lip is already pulled between her teeth, her eyes glimmering with challenge. "Make me."

He closes his laptop, feels her body physically shudder with anticipation, but just as he's about to thoroughly make her pay for her words, the front door begins to rattle and Kate shoots upwards, her hand flying to her waist for a gun that isn't there. But as soon as the door creaks open, she exalts with relief.

Only to tense up again the moment the older man pauses in the doorway, eyeing the two of them with an arched brow.

"Dad?"

* * *

 _Dad?_ Oh, _oh_ , now he sees it. It's the man from the photograph he studied in her bedroom this morning. Jim Beckett.

This is not exactly how he pictured meeting her father for the first time.

"Sorry Katie, I didn't mean to just drop in," the man – her father – states, his mouth quirking along the edges, and Kate finally stands from the couch, strides over to wrap her arms around her dad's shoulders.

"What are you even doing here?" she chuckles, hugging her father tight before lowering her arms, but Jim Beckett has his eyes trained over Kate's shoulder, on Rick.

"If I could have called, I would have, but I hadn't heard from you since last week and I had some vacation days saved up, so I wanted to make sure your recovery was still progressing well," her dad explains. "But apparently, you have someone here looking after you?"

He notices the color flush her cheeks as Kate shakes her head, but the curve of her lips is upturned when she shifts her gaze to Castle, extending her arm towards him in invitation, and Castle rises from the sofa, approaches her and her father with caution.

"Dad," Kate begins, stepping in close to his side and snaking her hand around to the small of Rick's back, brushing her knuckles there in reassurance. "This is Richard Castle. We met earlier in the week while he was vacationing in the nearby cabin."

Jim's eyebrows hitch in surprise. "Really? That place hardly ever has any renters, always too deep in the woods for most, but nice to meet you, Mr. Castle. I'm Jim Beckett."

"Nice to meet you too, sir," Castle replies, accepting the man's proffered hand and returning the firm grip of his handshake. "I actually came out here searching for seclusion, to help with my writing."

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd finally be releasing some new material," Jim murmurs in approval and Castle grins in surprise.

"You read my books?"

"When I can," her father confirms, cutting his eyes towards Kate in amusement. "My wife loved your books, and so does Katie if I'm not mistaken."

"Dad," she mutters, but Rick's already beaming at her, pride and excitement filling up his chest, because he just _knew_ she was a fan.

"Well, the new book is coming along well thanks to Kate," Castle informs her dad with a smile he knows says too much but can't quite wipe from his face.

"Oh really?"

"Rick was just suffering some writer's block," Kate explains, curling her fingers in the material of his shirt, her dad's shirt – and oh, he just realized how bad this must look to her father. Shit. "So I showed him around for the week, helped him rediscover the inspiration he lost after killing Derrick Storm."

Jim nods, but the amused skepticism still lingers in his eyes, in the twitching line of his mouth. "You two get caught in the storm today? I'm assuming it was a bad one if the turbulence on my flight over was any indication."

"Just the beginnings of it," Kate answers, smoothing the fabric at Castle's back before drifting from his side to head for the kitchen. "We made Nana's Polish-American surprise earlier, want some of the leftovers?"

The teasing in her father's eyes falls way to a tenderness that spreads along the lines of his face, seeping into the frown lines of his mouth and the crow's feet etched into the corners of his eyes. Jim Beckett is a worn looking man, greyed from years of grief and struggle, but the cabin seems to be a place of peace here for the Becketts, despite the weight of memories the home holds.

"Sure, Katie. If you don't mind."

Kate waves him off and snags a clean plate from the drying rack near the sink, deposits a healthy serving of their brunch from the fridge and uses the microwave to warm the food.

"Richard-"

"Rick," he automatically corrects her father's formal address, the nerves humming in his stomach as Jim assesses him with a critical eye while his daughter is busy in the kitchen, too far away to save him.

"Rick," Jim corrects, nodding towards the breakfast nook where he's shared meals with Kate countless times this past week, and Rick follows the man's lead with bubbling hesitance. "You and Katie just met this past week?"

"Yes, sir. I ran into her on my first day here and she was kind enough to take me through the entire area over the last few days since I was somewhat clueless when it came to exploring Big Sur," Castle attempts to explain in a casual manor while Jim Beckett eases into one of the wooden chairs. Her father is calm, collected, but calculated, ready to strike the moment Rick says the wrong thing.

"And our cabin happened to be one of the great sights you had to see?" Jim inquires, curious but with quiet judgment circling his eyes, a look Castle recognizes well. He's a father too and he knows what the older man is doing, knows he is being subtle but smart in his interrogation. Probably where Kate had learned her skills in the matters of attaining necessary information.

"I - well, sometimes-"

"Katie's never brought anyone here before, and I never imagined she would take what I consider a pretty big step of sharing a personal space so soon," Jim informs him, glancing over his shoulder to see Kate rinsing off a knife and fork in the sink. "And since the shooting… she wasn't doing well the last time I spoke to her."

Rick's eyes reflexively search for her, relishing in the picture of her presence illuminating the kitchen that has been dimmed by the storm clouds still hanging in the sky, blocking out the sun. They hadn't talked much about it, but she had mentioned nightmares in passing while on a walk through the woods once, her fingers rubbing at her bullet scar the one time she had shared her fear of the man who shot her finally coming to finish the job someday.

It's the reason why Big Sur has become her safe haven, he's learned. No one can find her here.

"But judging by the look on your face, you already knew that." Rick cuts his eyes back to Jim, an apology already forming on his lips that her father disregards with a shake of his head. "I've never seen her look at anyone the way she was looking at you either." Castle stills, his fingers gripping the edge of the empty chair opposite her father for balance. "So you must be special, must care about her."

"I'm in love with her," Castle blurts, to her father, and right as Kate's returning from the kitchen with Jim's meal, her face a painting of shock and threatening horror.

The cabin is bathed in silence for a split second, filled with wide eyes and a quiet panic that has the blood rushing in Rick's ears until Kate speaks.

"Castle," she hisses, but any traces of suspicion have leaked from Jim's eyes, a mixture of acceptance, permission, and respite arising in the older man's gaze instead.

"Don't worry, Katie," her father chuckles, standing from his seat to rescue the plate of food from her hands before it goes crashing to the floor. "It was pretty obvious from the moment I walked in."

Ah. Well, Castle already knew how bad he was at masking his feelings when it came to her, so it should really be no surprise her father had it figured out so quickly. Kate, on the other hand, looks almost offended.

"You're not exactly subtle about it either, honey," Jim grins, nudging her with his elbow and earning a grumble of irritation from Kate in return, but not denial, not embarrassment. She's not ashamed that her father can see how she feels about Rick and his heart swells hard against his ribcage because of it.

"You just caught us off guard," Kate hums as she places the fork and knife still in her grasp on the table beside Jim's plate. "You never would have figured it out otherwise."

"Katie, not only am I your father, but a lawyer as well. I would have gotten it out of you within an hour, just like when you were a kid," her dad replies before taking a bite of the breakfast dish, his smile smug as he chews.

Kate sighs at her father and shifts to stand beside Castle, close enough to touch, so he takes advantage of her proximity, of her father's newfound approval, and skirts his fingers along her forearm, earns the tilt of her body into his side and the curl of her fingers around his in response.

"C'mon Castle, help me wash the last few dishes," she murmurs, tugging him away from the table and her dad, into the relative privacy of the kitchen, but when she reaches to turn on the faucet, he notices that the sink is empty.

"What-"

She hushes him with her thumb to his lips before rising on the tips of her toes to replace the pad of finger with her lips. He holds her steady with his hands to her hips as her tongue slicks inside, a lazy sweep through his mouth that has him yearning to pick her up, place her back on the counter like he had this morning and finish what they started then.

"Not ready to kiss you in front of my dad," she hums in explanation, nipping at his bottom lip before slipping away, back down to the soles of her bare feet.

"No need to give him more reason to hate me," Castle agrees on a chuckle, lifting his hands to her jaw, smoothing his thumbs over the upturned corners of her mouth.

"Castle, my dad has hated a lot of guys I've dated in the past. I know what his disapproval looks like," she murmurs, glancing over his shoulder for a second before returning her gaze to him, sweeping her eyes over his face with a soft smile. "And he doesn't disapprove of you at all."

"You think so?" And shit, he can hear it in his own voice – how earnest and desperate he is to have her father's approval after barely an hour of knowing the man, but he's never really had to worry about impressing a woman's parents before.

He remembers Kyra's mother had hated him from the start, but back then, he'd taken it in stride, thought it added a 'forbidden romance' element to their relationship when it really had only made things more difficult. Meredith's parents had never played a large role in his first ex-wife's life to begin with, so he had never even been introduced to those who had raised her, but both Gina's mother and father had liked him well enough during that single dinner they had all shared in a fancy, five star restaurant after Castle had proposed.

Kate's father, though, is a man he had developed respect for before ever meeting him. Jim Beckett had been through hell, had fallen into the depths of addiction and risked destroying his relationship with his daughter after losing his wife, but he had gotten back up, pulled his life together and repaired what damage he could with Kate. Her father is a good man, an admirable one, the kind Rick might wish his own father to be, and one of the most important people in Kate's life. He's not quite sure if he's worthy of her dad's approval, still isn't certain he's worthy of the woman in front of him, but he wants it, her and everything a life at her side entails.

"Hey," she murmurs, dislodging his hands from her face to reach up, lay the comforting weight of her palm to the nape of his neck. Her gaze picks him apart, reading the hidden insecurity in his eyes, dissecting every shortcoming in the lines of his skin, and frowning at him as if she just can't understand her findings. "He would be crazy not to, but even if my dad didn't approve of you, I wouldn't care."

"Kate-"

"Castle, I love you," she reminds him, the words barely hours old, but so fierce coming from her mouth. "No one else is going to change or influence that, but I can assure you, there's no need to worry about my dad disliking you."

Kate steps away to turn the water off, but her eyes never leave him, their intensity pinning him to his spot in the middle of the kitchen.

"In fact," she adds, returning to snag his hands in hers, drawing him back slowly towards the living room. "I'm sure that once he gets to know you, he'll love you almost as much as I do," she says with a smile, echoing his reassurances about Alexis from earlier, and he knows her father is watching, but he can't resist leaning forward, smearing a kiss to her crown.


	15. Chapter 15

"Next time we're here, I'm taking you fishing," Jim tells him as he puts away the pictures of past fishing expeditions and Castle notices Kate sigh in relief. There had been quite a few photographs of a young Katie Beckett in the batch of old photo Jim had retrieved from his room and Castle had relished in each one of them, grinning at every shot of Kate as a child and even a teenager.

"Don't be so embarrassed, you were adorable," he had assured her from his spot on the couch beside her dad, but Kate had huffed at him from the armchair, glaring at him from above the rim of her coffee mug.

"Wait until I meet your mother and have her drag out your baby pictures, see how you like it," she had muttered, but of course, Castle had merely beamed back at her, the idea of her meeting his mother and bonding over photos of his childhood an all too pleasant one.

"I doubt it will be a pleasurable experience watching me try and fail to catch dinner, but I'm game," Rick shrugs, receiving a chuckle from Jim and an affectionate roll of eyes from Kate.

It's been hours since her father had arrived and Rick's nagging worry of falling short has dissipated after being allowed the chance to get to know Jim Beckett, to be a part of the Beckett family for a little while. He sees so much of Kate in her dad, in his quirks and way of thinking, in his quiet smiles and clever remarks, and it makes him curious of how her mother would have been, what traits she may have passed onto Kate that he'll never be able to compare.

"Well, Castle, it's getting late," Kate murmurs, unfurling from the armchair, popping her spine before she stands and drifts towards her bedroom. "Even later in New York. You should probably call Alexis."

"Your daughter, right?" Jim recalls from a story featuring Alexis that Castle had told earlier during their string of conversations, and Rick smiles in response. He has little doubt that Alexis will adore both Becketts as much as he does, as much as they already seem to adore her.

"Yeah, I made sure the cabin I'm renting had some form of cell service so I can talk to her every morning and night," Castle explains, bracing his hands on his knees to stand from the sofa. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer though, sir. I enjoyed meeting you."

"Jim," her dad corrects, following suit and rising from the couch, shaking Castle's outstretched hand. "And likewise, son. I meant to thank you, by the way." Rick's brow automatically furrows, but Jim answers his unspoken question before he can ask. "For putting that look on her face."

Jim gives his hand a final squeeze before letting go, before Rick can formulate a response, just as Kate's returning to the living room with her rucksack slung over her shoulder. Her father doesn't ask, but the implication is there, the overnight bag saying more than he wants Jim Beckett to know, but her dad makes no comment nor sign of disapproval, his smile still soft and genuine when Kate kisses him on the cheek and promises to see him in the morning.

"Have a safe flight, Rick," Jim calls while Castle snags his laptop bag from the table near the door, still stiff from the rain like the clothes he changed back into sometime after the early dinner they had consumed before the slideshow of old photos had come out.

"Thank you, Jim," Castle answers as Kate unlocks the cabin door and finds his hand on their way out onto the porch.

"Night Dad, we're not far if you need anything," Kate adds, receiving a nod of reply from her father before he witnesses her shut the door to her cabin for the last time. "See, he definitely doesn't hate you."

Rick chuckles and reclaims her hand, admiring the rain drenched world around them for a long moment. "I like your dad. He's a good man."

Her smile is small, but proud as she nods in agreement. "He is. I doubted it at times, you know? Doubted him and everything I'd ever known after mom died."

"Kate," he starts, not meaning to drag her into the more somber memories of her past, but she shakes her head, sweeps her thumb along the backs of his knuckles, her smile still intact.

"We can be the same sometimes and when he was drowning in a bottle, I used to hate that, felt ashamed of it."

"But he came out of it, stayed sober," he reminds her and watches her eyes flicker with something light like a memory as they roam the dripping leaves. "Because he's strong, just like you are. Nothing the Becketts can't overcome."

Her smile grows a fraction and her eyes abandon the outside world for him. "What about you?" she inquires, genuine curiosity shining gold and overshadowing the pride and reminiscence that had lingered in her gaze. "What about your parents?"

Castle glances down to their shoes on the drenched wooden porch, attempts to think up an adequate response. "Well, you know a bit about my mother," he murmurs, forcing his attention away from the floorboards at the brush of her fingers to his forearm.

"Martha," she recalls, a hint of confusion in her tone as she studies him, cross-examining learned facts with the expression on his face. "Broadway diva who is currently looking after your child."

He chuckles, but nods his confirmation. "That in the same."

"And your dad?"

He never knows what to say when people ask him about his father. Rarely is the mysterious man ever mentioned, never inquired about, but in the few instances he has come up, Rick has always laughed it off, made jokes about how his father is an astronaut or a CIA spy. But with Kate, the natural defense of humor fails to rise.

"You know about as much as I do," he confesses, a forced grin straining across his lips for her that she doesn't return.

"I'm sorry, Castle, I didn't know-"

"No, it's okay," he assures her, grazing his free hand along her waist, tightening the fingers of the other still entwined with hers. "It's not a sensitive subject or anything, doesn't bother me, I just don't have answers. But you know I love mysteries."

Kate fails to look convinced, but doesn't appear sympathetic either, simply understanding.

"If I did have a father, though," he adds, flicking his gaze back to the cabin for a second. "I think I'd want him to be something like yours. He played a part in raising an incredible woman."

She rolls her eyes, but gentle delight swirls in the ever changing irises, whorls of green unspooling in the sea of amber and gold. "Well, Martha did a nice job herself, produced a pretty amazing man who seems to be doing the same with his own daughter."

Tenderness streams through his blood, settling bone deep as she gives him one of those wonderful smiles where her tongue peeks at him from behind her teeth.

"Now come on, my dad probably thinks we're making out on the porch," she chuckles, already guiding him off the porch as he cringes at the thought.

"I'll miss your cabin," he sighs, taking a moment to glance back mournfully at the closed wooden door, but Kate shakes her head at him, tugs him down the steps. "So many fond memories made."

"Don't get all sentimental on me now, Castle," she teases, leading him towards the familiar path through the forest that he's learned to navigate through like second nature within the last week.

"By the way, I appreciate you inviting yourself over for a nightcap. I wasn't sure how to ask, especially in front of your dad."

She laughs, his favorite melody intertwining with the fading chirps of birds bidding them a good night and the crickets coming alive to greet them, and releases his hand in favor of linking her arm through his. "Well, I wasn't going to let my plans for the night change."

"Plans?" he echoes, glancing to her with an arched brow, his insides already simmering at the bite of her lip and the distinct spark of gold that flickers to life in her eyes. "You have plans for me?"

Kate slows to a stop, turning to lift on the toes of her favorite pair of flats and whisper in his ear, "You have no idea."

* * *

Alexis sounds exhausted when he talks to her, the toll of late night study sessions and the stress of her exams tiring her out, and once assured of his safety and reminding him of his flight time for tomorrow, he expresses his excitement to see her again and wishes his fatigued daughter the sweetest of dreams.

Kate had disappeared sometime during the phone call with Alexis, migrating from the living room area to explore the rest of his cabin he'd assumed, but she's nowhere in sight now as Castle rises from the leather sofa, scans the kitchen and the dining area to no avail.

"Kate?"

He starts down the hallway just off the living room, poking his head into the empty office before continuing towards the cracked door of his bedroom at the end of the hall. Candlelight flickers through the slit in the door, dripping onto the wooden floor of the hall, and as Castle eases his way into the bedroom, he feels his breath catch harshly in his chest the moment his gaze lands on her.

"Kate."

She turns from his dresser, the lighter in her hand flicking off, but the few candles decorating his bedroom are enough to illuminate the space, to display the sight of her body in black silk.

"Your bathroom was stocked with candles," she nods to the assortment decorating the room by way of explanation, but he could care less about the lighting.

"That's - nice," he manages, gulping down a breath as she sets the lighter down, begins to stalk towards him, slow and unhurried, but the arousal is burning in her eyes like the flames that dance around the room, her body language sensual as she approaches. "But you're… wow."

"Interesting choice in adjectives," she muses, teasing him, like always, but she has an unfair advantage. He can't find the coherency to volley back a worthy quip when Kate Beckett is standing in front of him in nothing but a negligée and candlelight.

"You'll have to get used to one syllable answers whenever you're dressed like this," he manages, his jeans becoming uncomfortably tight as she finally reaches for him, gripping his hips in her slender fingers. Rick takes it as invitation to extend his own eager fingers, to coast his hands down the silk at her sides, down until he encounters the lace trim skirting her thighs. Her skin is smooth under his touch, complimentary to the silk clinging to her frame. "Did you pack this?"

Kate shakes her head, her bottom lip between her teeth as she sways into him, her body falling into a slow dance of seduction against his, and Castle's hands wander upwards again, bracketing the expanding branches of her ribs beneath the thin fabric.

"When I went to the town center for groceries yesterday, I found a boutique," she explains, her voice a delicious contradiction of husky and soft as it caresses his ear, her eyes a clash of carnal lust and coy shyness. "I bought it on a whim."

"For - for this?" he gets out, grinding his teeth to suppress the groan trapped in his throat when her hands travel, one picking apart the buttons of his shirt, the other toying with the button of his jeans before slipping downwards, cupping.

"Hadn't really planned to wear it for anyone else, Castle," she hums, her eyes flicking to his mouth as her fingers squeeze, and he jerks, hips rising for her while his hands clutch at her waist.

"Better not," he growls, feeling her hands glide up his bared chest to twine at the back of his neck, drawing him down to meet the press of her lips. Kate's mouth opens for him the moment he touches her, wet, hot, and inviting, and he slicks his tongue inside, relishes in the feral moan he draws from her. "Mine, Kate. You're already mine."

Her lips part on a gasp when his hands drift down the length of her spine, curving over her backside and finding the hem of the lingerie once more, but her knee hooks at his thigh before he can draw the heated silk over her head, her breasts crushing hard against his chest as she elevates on her toes to lift into his kiss. He ends up against the doorframe with her writhing in his arms, her hips rocking and her heart beating rapid enough to feel against his own sternum, to match the frantic rhythm of his pulse.

But the press of her body is too much, too much for him to handle without having her. Castle closes his hands around the taut muscles of her thighs, hoists her up without warning and holds the familiar weight of her in his arms, kicks the still open door shut with his foot before walking her the few extra feet to his bed.

Kate retreats in her assault of the sensitive skin beneath his jaw to grin down at him, her hands trailing up from his neck to curl at his ears, still determined, still hungry with arousal, but tender. His first time with her, the night before in her bed, had been amazing, but he already has a feeling this time will be even better. This time he plans to chant his love in her ear, to make her come undone in every possible way, make sure she remembers exactly what she's been swimming for.

* * *

 **A/N:** The M rated addition to this chapter can be found in second (upcoming) chapter of the companion piece, 'Caught in the Riptide: Diving In'.


	16. Chapter 16

On his last morning in Big Sur, Rick opens his eyes to find her already awake and watching him, a sad smile on her lips. But she rises on her elbows at the slit of his eyes, the sunlight streaming through his bedroom windows and creating a halo at her back as she hovers above him, the sheet slipping down to pool at the dimples of her spine.

"Time?" he rasps, lifting a hand to brush his knuckles down the slope of her shoulder.

"Almost nine," Kate murmurs, catching his coasting hand with her chin, smearing a kiss to the back of his hand. "Flight?"

"Noon." Her lashes fall to her cheeks and her shoulders sink, so unbearably beautiful beside him that the words come spilling out without his consent. "I miss you already."

Her eyes flicker up from the shade of her lashes at that, the sorrowful smile back on her lips, and Kate shifts forward, covers his lips with the soft press of her mouth and drapes the length of her body at his side.

They stay in his bed for an hour, exchanging quiet words and lazy kisses before she finally untangles herself from his sheets, saunters to the bathroom with a heated look over her shoulder that demands he follow.

Another half hour spent in a haze of steam and the intoxicating taste of her skin, her mouth, and then he's finally getting dressed, packing up his belongings while Kate blow dries her hair and slips into a pretty purple sundress that has the urge to stay becoming unbearable. Rick admires the flow of material caressing her thighs as she disappears from his bedroom. The fabric is darker, a royal shade of the color, but it reminds him of the purple sand she showed him on the beach, how she had grinned when he'd made the guess that purple was her favorite.

"Stop looking at me like you're never going to see me again," Kate snaps, reappearing in his bedroom doorway with his laptop case in her hands. She strides past him to place the messenger bag on the edge of his bed, next to his suitcase, and snags their clothes from the night before from the ground, busying herself with the folding of his shirt as she speaks. "You can't just feed me all these stories about us having a life together outside of Big Sur, in New York, you can't just tell me you love me, and then look at me like this is the end."

Her fingers stutter when they close around the silk of her negligee and Castle strides forward, snatches the lingerie from her fingers. Her glare doesn't waver, but she does arch her brow at him in question as he tucks the black silk into his carryon.

"You can have it back when you see me again, in New York," he states, zipping the suitcase closed and catching her hip, tugging her forward and reeling with relief when she doesn't resist. "It's not the end," Castle murmurs, stroking the bone of her hip through the fabric of her dress with his thumb. "Not once did I think it was, but I'll miss this, miss you and the ease of seeing you everyday, and I'm not exactly thrilled to have an entire country between us-"

"Two weeks," she interrupts him, snaking a hand between them to curl her fingers in the front pocket of his shirt. "That's when I return to the city. We'll be okay for two weeks. I'll even - I'll drive out to the highway every few days, where the cell service is stable. I'll call you?"

"Yes," he breathes, nudging his nose to her cheek, feeling her lashes flutter closed against his skin. Kate chuckles and cradles his skull in the hand not still hooked in his shirt, circles her thumb at the tip of his vertebrae. "Call me whenever you want, for anything."

She nods and digs her chin into the slope of skin between his neck and his shoulder. "Don't stop writing," she murmurs, her cheek coming to a rest at the bone of his jaw. "I don't have the patience to wait much longer to read this new book."

Castle grins and turns his head to kiss her, his mouth landing first on her temple and then to the corner of her eye, tasting the sting of salt mixed with the sweet flavor of her skin. "I'll never let you live down the fact that you're a fan."

"Shut up," she huffs, dislodging his smirking lips to catch them with her own, smiling into their kiss.

His phone buzzes in his pocket before he can deepen the connection of their mouths and he reaches into the back of his jeans, reads the quick text from Alexis on the screen wishing him a safe flight home.

"We should get going," Kate whispers, slipping from his arms and drifting towards the bed, hefting his messenger bag over her shoulder and nudging the duffel his way.

Castle hesitates, but he knows she's right, just saw that it was nearing close to eleven and he still had to get to the airport, ensure he was well on time for his flight. He bends, retrieves his carryon from the floor and follows Kate out of the bedroom, sweeping his eyes over the room, over the sunlit bed, before shutting the door.

"You have everything?" she checks, already waiting for him at the front door, her gaze roaming over the rustic kitchen, the matching living room, and coming to a rest on him strolling through the hallway, her lips quirking as he bypasses the cozy little office.

"Yeah, didn't have much to unpack to begin with," he shrugs, following the tour of her eyes while he steps up beside her, retrieving the cabin's keys from his pocket. It wasn't a second home, not like hers had become, but he'll miss this place, the memories he made here.

Kate coils her fingers around the crook of his elbow, drawing him outside the open door, and he goes willingly, locking the front door behind them and depositing the house keys in the tiny mailbox hanging beside the doorframe as the owner had instructed.

They descend the porch steps together and Kate's fingers trickle down the inside of his arm, the soft pads of her fingertips branding his skin as they slide down to collide with his palm, twining in the spaces waiting to lock with hers. Rick lifts their tangled hands before they can begin their trek to the parking lot, stains a kiss to her knuckles, but she can't manage a smile for him anymore.

Their final walk through the woods is slow, prolonging the inevitable, but he relishes the soundtrack of the birds, the bristle of tree branches and the crash of ocean waves in the distance, savors the familiar fit of Kate's hand in his and the flutter of her dress at his knee in the gentle breeze. He had no real expectations when he booked a plane ticket to Big Sur, only the dim hope that he might get some writing done; never could he have anticipated falling in love with the seclusion of the forest, the beauty of the beaches, or the woman he found there.

They don't speak as the trees begin to thin, the well used path to civilization becoming more pronounced beneath their feet, and Castle feels his throat start to close up as the lodging area comes into sight, the parking lot that holds his rental car - ready and waiting to take him to the airport. Rick tightens his hold on his suitcase, on her delicate fingers, and feels her squeeze in return.

Kate tugs him to a stop once they're mere feet away from the opening into the parking lot, still guarded by a few thin trees and brush. She slips her arms around his neck without a word, burying her face in is throat and lifting on her tiptoes to even their height and seal her chest against his. Castle winds an arm around her slim waist, threads his hand through her thick hair, and holds her tight, commits to memory the fit of her body to his, the smell of her skin, and the rasp of her lips against the stubble of his cheek.

He hates goodbyes. Temporary or not, he hates saying goodbye to her.

Castle angles his face towards her, nudges the soft tip of her nose with his own and snakes a hand between them to brush at the moisture brimming in her eyes, collecting on her lashes. "Love you, Kate."

She smiles for him, heartbreaking and lovely, and tilts forward to capture his mouth, allowing him to taste the melancholy on her tongue and feel the press of promise on her lips.

"Two weeks will fly by," he murmurs, unsure of whom he's trying to console, but she nods her agreement and descends back to the soles of her shoes, stroking the plane of his cheek with tender fingers. "By the time we're together, you'll be wishing I was flying across the country again."

Her eyes roll at his halfhearted attempt at a joke, her head shaking, but the amusement is quick to abandon them and Kate takes a deep breath, reclaiming his hand and glancing towards the parking lot once more. "Ready?"

The quality of her voice punctures his heart, the forced strength masking the choked sorrow, but he concedes, lets her lead him from dirt and grass to concrete, helping him load his duffel bag into the backseat and carefully placing his laptop case in beside it.

"Be safe," she murmurs when there's nothing left, nothing more he can do to stall his departure, and the keys are in his hands. "Let Alexis know I look forward to meeting her."

His heart leaps at that, the smile sparking at his lips before he can contain it and growing wider when he notices her mouth splitting open as well.

"Tell your dad to hunt down some more adorable photos of you." Kate smacks his shoulder, the laughter spilling soft from her lips, and he catches her by the hand, fruitlessly attempts to remember the fit of her fingers in his. "And stay away from strange men who approach you on the beach."

One of her eyebrows curves along with the corner of her mouth as she lists into him. "Already have one of those, don't have the energy for another," she muses, pressing their tangled hands to her sternum, and Castle extends his thumb, brushes over the fabric covering her bullet scar.

"You be safe too," he adds, dusting a kiss to spot between her brow. "Don't chop too much wood."

The huff of her laughter bursts across his chin. "I'll be fine, Castle. I know my limits." He narrows his eyes at her at that, earns a nip of her teeth to his jaw for it. "And I'll stay away from the strange men, while you stay away from the bimbettes."

He rolls eyes, but she's grinning, teasing him, and he dips his head, takes one last taste of her smiling mouth, savoring the sparks of electricity her tongue never fails to elicit and the cant of her hips into the cradle of his.

"That's the last thing you need to worry about," he mumbles, smearing his lips along the slash of her cheekbone, but Kate nudges him towards the open car door.

He hesitates, but slides inside, turns the key in the ignition but rolls the window down before he shuts the door, already on the verge of running late, but not ready to lose the connection to her.

Kate bends, folding her forearms atop the car door and offering him one last smile, the one she always reserves for him alone.

"Not worried," she hums, reaching inside to trail her fingers down the side of his face, dropping them to his shoulder for a brief squeeze before retracting her arm. "You're already mine."

She takes a step back from the vehicle, her smile smug and unfaltering, and he chuckles, his chest tight but his heart full with her.

"See you in New York, Kate."

He puts the car in drive.

"Meet you there, Castle."

* * *

He thinks of her every time the plane flies over an ocean, pictures her in every fleet of trees he spies below, and feels his heart hollow out the further he flies from Big Sur. He uses to plane's wifi to FaceTime with Alexis in the first hour, delighting in the eager face of his daughter on the screen of his phone.

"You okay, Dad? You seem down," Alexis had asked in concern, her brow knitted as she studied him, searching for evidence, much like Kate would. "Ah."

"Ah?" he'd echoed quietly in an attempt to keep their conversation between them and avoid including fellow passengers. "I'm just tired, Pumpkin."

"No, you miss her," Alexis stated with a quirked brow. "Jeez, Dad. It's only been two hours."

"Hey," he had huffed, earning an amused smirk from his daughter. "So what if I do?"

"I'm not judging," Alexis had assured him innocently but with eyes that still danced with intrigue. "Just surprised is all. If you like her this much, though, she better not be some fling."

"Actually," Castle had grinned, leaning in closer to the phone. "She flies back to New York in two weeks. Oh, and she looks forward to meeting you."

Alexis's smile had softened for him, but her brow had quickly rose at the last part, surprise and apprehension swirling in the tide pools of her eyes. "She - we're going to meet? She wants to meet me?"

"Of course, Pumpkin. I'm pretty sure she feels as if she knows you by now after all the stories I told her."

"Dad," Alexis had groaned and he'd had to subdue his chuckle.

"But really, Alexis, I think you'll like her."

He had watched his daughter nod, but swallow, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her tells. "If she makes you happy, I'm sure I will, but just - she's nothing like... like mom or-"

"No, not even close," Castle had assured her. "Polar opposite actually. Kate is... real."

Alexis had practically deflated with relief in front of him.

"Then I look forward to meeting her too."

The conversation had ended after his mother had popped into the frame, extending her overly dramatic greeting that had him lowering the volume on his phone, and rolling his eyes as Alexis giggled. He would see them both in five hours and he was excited, ready to be back in his home, back with his family, but he had been unprepared to feel as if a piece of home was already missing.

Rick sighs and retrieves the carryon at his feet, extracts his notebook and tugs the pen clipped to the front of the moleskin. He doesn't plan to write about her, knows it'll be a few days before he can write Nikki Heat without a pang in his chest, but he flips the notebook open nonetheless, scans the pages covered in words about Kate Beckett and Nikki Heat with Jameson Rook at her side until he can find an empty page.

But instead, he turns onto a page that isn't stained in his handwriting, but in hers. He's not sure when she did it, but sometime before they left his cabin, Kate had taken the time to find a blank page in his moleskin and in her neat handwriting and looping letters, she had written out an address in Tribeca, along with a phone number for good measure.

And below all of that, a brief message that has his breath catching.

 _Te iubesc,_

 _Kate_

Oh, and he knows those words. He had seen them come up multiple times during his frantic search through the internet the morning after their first night together, when he was still attempting to decipher the words she had whispered to him in the Romanian.

 _I love you._


	17. Chapter 17

The cellophane crinkles in his hands as he fidgets nervously outside her door, adjusting the vibrant arrangement of sunflowers, multicolored daisies, and orange lilies. The flowers had made him think of her and the summer, of Big Sur and their time spent in forests and on beaches. Kate arrived back in New York late yesterday evening, her text of _I'm home_ almost causing him to bolt from his bed and out to the address he had memorized by now, but he knew she had to be exhausted, jetlagged and worn from a day of travel, so he had forced himself to wait another twelve hours.

Besides, it wasn't as if he hadn't spoken to her since he left California. They had managed to arrange a schedule within the last two weeks, making time for calls that spanned from minutes to hours for every other day, and it had made him feel so much better about seeing her, about keeping their connection alive.

But he was on her doorstep now, the inconsolable fear that after two weeks without him, her mind might have changed now back and raging rampant in his chest, but he takes a deep breath, knocks on her door, and feels his heart rate kick up at the sound of footsteps on the other side.

There's a pause once the footsteps cease, a moment where he assumes she's peeking through the tiny hole in the door, and then locks are clicking, tumblers easing out of place, and the door swings open.

And Kate Beckett is standing before him again.

"Castle."

His worries evacuate his system at the smile on her face, the spark in her eyes the moment they catch his. Happy, she looks happy to see him. Happy and beautiful and healthier than he ever remembered.

"You cut your hair."

A breath of laughter leaves her lips, a sound he's missed dearly, and her hand lifts to scrape through the now shoulder length chestnut locks of her hair, almost self-consciously, but he shakes his head, drifting in closer to cradle the back of her skull.

"You look beautiful."

Her smile widens and her fingers lift to his cheek, brushing down to stroke along his jawline, drawing him in until his forehead can find rest against the home of hers. "Not so bad yourself."

He steps in from the open doorway when she curls her fingers at his hip, tugging him along as she backtracks into the apartment.

"Nice place," he murmurs, lifting his head to admire the interior of her home.

Her apartment is both exactly what he had imagined and a total surprise – organized and minimalistic yet bohemian and chic, a welcoming space that has pieces of her scattered across the walls, the bookshelves, the furniture and the flooring. So open for someone so closed off, which meant she felt safe here, or at least, she once had.

Kate hums in response before she takes a step back from him, shifting around him to attend to the open door at his back, and with his arms empty of her once again, he remembers the neglected flowers still clutched in his grasp.

"Oh, and I brought you these," he states, listening to her lock the door behind him, holding out the flowers to her once she returns to his side, but she doesn't claim the bouquet, not yet.

Kate's fingers curl at his neck while her body follows suit, pressing warm and firm against his, and before he can say another word, her mouth is there, covering his with sweet resolution. His arms twine around her waist without hesitation, the flowers flush with the curve of her spine, and for the first time in two weeks, he can take a deep breath again.

Castle surrenders to the liquid line of her body in his arms, returns the long awaited greeting of her lips with ardent eagerness and doesn't part from her until they're both breathless.

She tastes like coming home.

Kate's nose clashes affectionately with his as she inhales, her lashes fluttering open to reveal the golden pools of her eyes staring back at him. "Hi, Castle," she murmurs, her grin soft but infectious.

"Welcome home, Kate," he returns, smudging one more kiss to her mouth before she can pull away.

Her teeth snag her swollen bottom lip as she accepts the bouquet from his hands, cradling the flowers that resemble a sunset in her arm and heading for the kitchen area, glancing over her shoulder to him in invitation.

"Flight okay?" he asks while she retrieves a vase from a high cabinet, her wince existent but hidden behind grit teeth as she forces herself to endure the high reach.

"Yeah, just… uncomfortable," she admits, arranging the flowers in the slim vase and placing the bouquet atop the counter, proudly on display. "Kinda got used to being alone, so the crowds were pretty overwhelming."

Castle controls his frown, the idea of her suffocating amidst the pressure of a crowd filling his mind all too easily; it makes him wonder how she'll ever adapt to being back in the city, back at work. It makes him wish he could have been at her side through the ordeal.

"How long until you return to the Twelfth?"

Kate props her hip against the counter, her smile long gone and her lip now under the abuse of her gnawing teeth. "About a week. I talked to Captain Gates again this morning."

"You don't like her?" he presumes, moving in closer until he's standing right in front of her, close enough to touch her again.

"She's not Montgomery," Kate shrugs, reaching out when he fails to, skimming her fingers along his arm.

Castle follows the call of her fingers, shuffling forward and slipping his arms around her waist, releasing a breath of quiet surprise when she presses her cheek to his clavicle and curls her arms around his torso. He hadn't expected it to be this easy, to be able to fall back into touching her again with such familiar intimacy; he had expected to have to work for it, to remind her why they were so good for each other.

But she doesn't seem to have forgotten.

"Missed you, Castle," she confesses on a whisper, an admission he had never intended to hear. Rick trails a hand up her spine, up until he can comb his fingers through the shortened strands of her hair.

"I missed you too," he breathes, grazing his thumb back and forth along her scalp, stroking over the small of her back with the other. "I should have extended my stay," he mumbles, but her head is already shaking against his neck.

"No, you needed to come home and I needed those last two weeks to make sure I was ready."

"And are you?" he asks, cradling the base of her skull in his palm when her head rises from his chest, the consequences of near death, of trauma, still staining the lines of her skin, but the look in her eyes is soft, peaceful and light, and the gentle curve of her lips forms to match.

"As ready as I can be, I think," she nods, gliding one of her hands up his side to caress the delicate skin of his ear. "I'm happy to be back, to reclaim my life and – and start one with you at the same time."

His breath gets choked in his throat, his heart stilling before stumbling into a quiet stampede.

"We still swimming, Castle?" she teases, drifting forward to bump her hips into his, playful but with a flicker of uncertainty threatening to breach her eyes.

"Yes, of course, I just-" He gulps down a steady exhale before shaking his head at her. "I didn't know if you'd still want – if you'd still be in the same pool. Thought we might have to go back to wading for a bit."

He expects a stab of disappointment to penetrate her gentle gaze at that, for his lack of faith in her to send her backing out of his embrace, but Kate shifts in closer, coils her fingers at the bones of his hips.

"We're done with wading," she states, staring up at him as if he's the only thing that matters, the wild trepidation he remembers so vividly from those early days in Big Sur demolished, gone without a trace. "Rick, you… I never would have believed I could fall in love with someone in a week until I met you. I was drowning and I didn't want to come up for air anymore."

His hands rise to her shoulders, palms curving over the sculpted bones, imagined grief and blossoming awe binding together to create a noose around his throat, choking him up.

"But then you found me on the beach and tracked me down to my dad's cabin, gave me a reason to keep swimming to the surface. And I know I'm not the easiest person to get to know, that I shut people out and don't always let on what's on my mind…"

"Kate," he protests, squeezing her shoulders in soft disagreement, but she quiets him, brushes her thumb along the seam of his lips.

"I'm not easy to love, and I thought you would realize that after I told you everything on our hike that day." Her lips quirk, fond and bittersweet. "But it's like that only made you fight harder."

"Of course," he huffs past the barrier of her thumb, withdrawing a hand from her shoulder to draw her hand from his face, clutching it to his sternum. "I thought I might never write again, Kate. Coming out to Big Sur, it was a last ditch effort that I made only to appease my daughter, but then I saw you and the words came back like they never left."

Her eyes have flared with surprise, holding his with a flicker of disbelief hiding in the coals of her pupils. She had known she was his inspiration, knew probably all too well, but he had never admitted his fear of losing his ability to write, to produce a fictional world through words and _enjoy_ it. He hadn't even wanted to admit it to himself, terrified that once he accepted the potential fate, it would make it certain reality.

"You changed everything."

Her throat bobs as she nods in agreement, blinking a little too furiously. "Dammit, Castle," she chokes, ducking her head to seek sanctuary against his shoulder. "Don't make me cry."

Rick chuckles and bands his arms around the frame of her. "I'll never tell anyone I made tough as nails Detective Beckett cry, I promise."

She flicks his side, buries her grin against his throat.

"It's mutual, you know," she adds after a moment of rest there. "You made it easier, better."

His smile is so wide, so stupidly wide across his face that his cheeks ache with it, but the woman in his arms… she just makes him so happy, so hopeful, and it's only been a week, a near month of combined communication, of knowing her.

"I want a lifetime," he confesses into her hair, holding her too tight once the words are out, awaiting the tension that will lace through her spine, the press of her hands to his chest pushing him away.

Kate lifts her head, lifts to claim his mouth. Her kiss is fierce, affirmation in the seal of her lips, in the firm stroke of her tongue that slips inside, and his arms loosen, snaking to supporting her lower body when she hooks a leg at his thigh, bounces on her toes until her legs are secure around his waist.

He gasps around the nip of her teeth to his bottom lip. "Kate-"

"Yes," she hums, cupping his face in her hands, stealing the oxygen from his lungs as her lips dust at the corner of his mouth. "Lifetime of swimming. Want it."

His laugh is breathless as it spills into her grinning mouth, his heart like a firework sparkling and ricocheting within the cage of his ribs. The smudge of her lips over his reminds him to breathe, to kiss her back and start towards the hallway across the living room that he is sure leads to her bedroom.

"You're sure?" he mumbles, grunting at the roll of her hips that causes him to stagger into a lamp, reprimanding her with the scape of his teeth to her jawline.

"Mm, yes, sure of you," Kate replies, tilting forward to rest her forehead to his, their noses clashing as she catches her breath and nods towards the cracked door on the left. They pause in the threshold of her bedroom, her eyes snagging his, bright and thriving with the excitement of their next adventure. "Dive in with me, Castle."


	18. Chapter 18

**Epilogue**

* * *

"Castle, wake up." The sultry hum of her voice in his ear has him swimming to the surface of his slumber, awareness spreading through his limbs, the touch of Kate's lips to his ear tugging a smile from his lips.

Rick reaches for her without opening his eyes, finds the curve of her shoulder with his palm and feels her knee slide over his lap, the warm weight of her body lowering to settle over him. His eye peel open at the brush of her lips to his cheek, the corner of his mouth, the blur of sleep and sunshine fading after a few blinks to reveal her hovering above him. The light is like a halo at her back, illuminating her golden skin, her sparkling eyes that assess him with so much adoration and it'll never stop amazing him that he can make Kate Beckett this happy.

"Morning," he breathes, cradling one of her grinning cheeks in his palm and caressing the lovely line of her lips.

Kate pecks a kiss to his thumb before she leans in, smudges another to his mouth, her smile contagious.

"Happy anniversary," she corrects, nipping at his bottom lip. Her laugh echoes through her childhood bedroom as he rolls her over and sinks down to rest atop her wiggling form.

They've been returning to Big Sur every summer since they met, always managing to reserve a week to spend away in her father's cabin, submerged in the welcome second home of the woods no matter the changes that take place in their lives. And there have been many. He had even proposed to her here, after a hike along their favorite trail through the forest on the fallen redwood that will always be the spot where he is certain he first fell in love with her.

That had been five years ago.

"Happy anniversary, Mrs. Castle," he returns, stroking back the chestnut locks from her face. "Are the kids still with your dad?"

"Until noon," she confirms, folding her legs high around his waist and sweeping her hands up to twine her fingers at his nape, the cool strip of her wedding ring imprinting against his skin. "And it's only nine."

Castle rumbles with delight, earning another breath of laughter from her lips. It's been seven years since they met and sometimes, he wonders if the spark between them will ever dim, if the ever present butterflies and the hot flare of arousal will one day fade away, but it never does, and he hopes it never will. He never wants to stop looking at his wife and feeling his heart swell with joy and ripen with gratitude.

"Care to share what suddenly has you thinking so hard?" she murmurs, withdrawing a hand from his neck to dust her fingers along his brow.

Rick lifts a hand to catch her by the wrist as her turns his head, smears a kiss to her palm before pinning it above her head. "Just you," he mumbles, admiring the flecks of gold in her eyes, the swirls of varying greens and browns that caught his attention on that very first day. No, he thinks, as long as she has his heart, there will never be a risk of it being empty. "How much I love you, Kate."

The hand still curled at his neck draws him down to meet the refuge of her lips that part for him on a sigh, her tongue welcoming his with a caressing stroke that sends a pleasant burn through his veins.

"I love you too, Castle," she whispers around the firm press of her mouth. "Always have."

* * *

They emerge from the cabin just before noon, just in time to see Alexis and Jim walking the path that winds through the woods and connects the two cabins that have taken a permanent residence in Castle's heart.

They had all traded for the night – Jim heading over to the rental, where Castle had stayed during his first time in Big Sur, where they usually stayed now since the Beckett's cabin could no longer hold all of them, while he and Kate had traveled the familiar trail to her father's place for some long anticipated alone time to celebrate their anniversary. Kate wasn't aware yet, but he planned to buy the rental cabin before they headed back to New York. The owners had already offered to sell to him multiple times, seeing as he has always been their most consistent summer resident, and he's finally ready to call the place their own. It will never be the second home the former hideaway her dad's cabin had become all those years ago, but by now, it was almost equal in the amount of fond memories it held.

Kate lifted on her toes as their family grew closer, smudged a kiss to his cheek, his jaw, before dropping back to the soles of her shoes, her smile still in place while her arm slid around his waist.

"Stop glowing, your dad's going to know how we spent the morning," he huffs, pressing his lips to her temple.

Her eyes flash with something, like a secret brimming gold like a halo along the circumference of her pupils, but before he can question it, an excited shout from ahead steals his attention.

"Mommy! Daddy!"

Ava breaks free from the chain of hands she's made with Alexis and Jim Beckett, sprinting forward and leaping into Castle's waiting arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and hugging him tight, as if it's been days rather than hours since she last saw him.

"Hey sweetpea," Castle chuckles, propping their daughter on his hip. "How was the slumber party with Lexi and Grandpa?"

"It was the best," Ava gushes, her green eyes bright like the jade stone she wears around her neck, the simple cord of black leather and gemstone a gift from Alexis that had nearly brought Kate to tears at the baby shower. "Lexi painted my nails!"

The younger of his two daughters holds out her right hand proudly for him to see the shimmering turquoise painted onto her fingernails.

"Oh, look at that," Kate hums, taking their daughter's hand in hers and skimming her thumb over the polish. "Reminds me of the ocean."

"Because Ava wants to be a mermaid," Alexis informs her, joining the three of them to stand at Kate's side. "We enjoyed two and a half viewings of _The Little Mermaid_ last night."

The apples of Ava's cheeks flood pink, a quirk inherited from her mother, and Castle chuckles, patting the girl's back. "Don't worry, honey. Alexis used to think she _was_ Ariel because of her hair."

"Dad," Alexis huffs.

"Don't worry, Lex. Katie used to think she was Belle from _Beauty and the Beast_ because she loved books," Jim chimes in, earning a toothy grin from his granddaughter.

"Oh, Mommy," Ava sighs, wistful as she reaches for her mother and Castle's passes her over. "Momma's Belle, Alexis is Ariel, who'm I?"

Kate chuckles, swaying softly when Ava rests her cheek to her Kate's shoulder, a habit his wife took up when Ava was still nothing more than a tiny bundle in her arms. "Whoever you want to be, baby. You could even make up a new princess, create your own story and everything."

"Like Daddy does with his books?" she gasps, the rosebud of her lips parting with excitement. "Oh yes, I'll write like Daddy!"

"Gram is going to be crushed," Alexis murmurs, drifting closer to her father and nudging him with her elbow. "Her hopes of finally having a grandchild who would follow in her footsteps and become a Broadway star had just been renewed."

"She's just as proud to have a M.E. in training for a granddaughter," Castle reminds her, lacing an arm around Alexis's shoulders and smacking a kiss to her cheek that she squirms away from.

He had secretly worried that Alexis wouldn't enjoy Big Sur as much as he had imagined she would, but just like her approval of Kate upon first meeting her, her approval of the California coast came with ease and enthusiasm. His eldest daughter fell in love with the serenity of the ocean and the tranquility of the forest just as quickly as he had and he thinks now, after all these years, Alexis may even enjoy vacationing here more than the Hamptons.

"Have you guys already had lunch?" Kate asks, setting Ava down on her feet and stroking a hand through their daughter's lengthening brown locks.

"Yep, and Alexis got Ava all ready for a day at the beach," Jim informs them.

"Not coming along, Dad?" Kate teases, knowing her father never joins their family outings to Pfeiffer beach in favor of some peace and quiet amidst the woods.

Jim spears her with a glare that Castle has been on the receiving end of by the older man's daughter many times. "I'll see you three for dinner, and Lex, I'll see you at the next meal we have together in New York."

"Deal," Alexis shoots back with a smile.

Warmth unfurls in Castle's chest without fail when Jim embraces his daughter and Alexis clutches him back, as if he's never been anything short of real family. Rick has never had a father figure, and in turn, his daughter had never had any form of grandfather. Until he met Jim and the Castles managed to merge with the Becketts.

"Have fun in the purple sand, Ava," Jim calls, releasing Alexis and patting Ava on the head, nudging Kate with his shoulder and smirking when she purposefully allows herself to be shoved into Castle.

"I will, Grandpa. I'mma build a purple castle!" Ava returns, waving to her grandfather as he climbs the cabin steps and disappears inside with the affectionate grin still firmly in place.

"C'mon guys, my flight is in only a few hours," Alexis reminds them, sighing softly at the loop of Ava's arms at her knees. With Alexis's busy schedule, her time with her family, with her little sister, is always limited, and while Ava rarely expressed her craving for Alexis's time and attention, he knew that his youngest daughter hated for her big sister to leave early. "I'm working with Lanie on Monday and I want to enjoy the beach before I have to go back to looking at dead bodies all day."

"This I can relate to," Kate laughs, abandoning his side to sling an arm around Alexis's shoulders. "But I also know you're dying to see that cute boy who works parking."

Castle sputters as Alexis's cheeks burn bright red and she elbows Kate in the side, sharing a silent joke with his wife. And yeah, he knows Alexis is all grown up now, but he doesn't think he'll ever soften to the idea of his daughters and boys.

Especially not Shane from the parking lot at Pfeiffer beach. _No way._

"Calm down, babe," Kate hums, drifting backwards and winding her arm around his waist while Alexis bends to her knees, allows Ava to hop on her back. "Just some innocent flirting between those two. I just like to tease her."

"Am I that obvious?" he huffs, tangling his fingers with the hand splayed at his side.

Alexis starts down the two mile long path that will lead to the parking lot just outside the redwoods and wildlife with Ava clinging to her back and Kate tugs him along after the two, their footsteps in sync as they maintain a slow pace behind the girls. "Extremely obvious."

"Well, now I have _two_ to worry about, that's twice as many boys, Kate. And if Ava's anything like your dad says you were as a teenager…" Castle shudders and she socks him in the ribs for it.

"You _wish_ you'd known me as a teenager," she mumbles, craning her neck to nip at his jaw, throwing them off balance.

"Oh, so you suddenly think I could handle Rebel Becks?" he teases, clutching her hip as he rights them before the forest floor can trip them up.

"Not at all, but it would have been fun to see you try."

"I would have made you fall for my charms back then, just like I did seven years ago. Just like I still do now."

Her eyes roll and her lips purse, but she doesn't deny him. "Maybe."

"Faster, Lexi!" Ava's voice rings through the trees, alarming a few birds, inviting others to join in with cheerful tweets and songs of greeting.

"Faster?" Alexis groans, hitching Ava higher on her back and continuing her jog uphill much to Castle's amusement.

"Yeah," Kate adds, listing further into his side, a lovely smile flirting with the edges of her mouth. "You definitely would have."

* * *

It was their last night in Big Sur, the last few hours of their anniversary, and he was sneaking out to meet his wife in the starlit darkness.

Rick eases the cabin door shut behind him, the chirp of the crickets disguising the click of the recently installed automatic lock and the crash of the nearby ocean waves in the distance muffling his footsteps along the porch, down the wooden stairs. He spares a moment to inhale the salt in the air, the wilderness that surrounds them like a warm embrace.

In the last seven years, he and Kate have been through almost as many nightmares as adventures, the calm sea of their lives often disrupted by deadly tidal waves in the forms of snipers and senators, of death threats and bullet wounds, even a tiger not long after he finally weaseled his way into shadowing her at work. Big Sur was once her safe haven, where she hid away to lick her wounds and heal in peace, but she had allowed him into fold of the woods she had grown up exploring, offered him a taste of serenity in the sand along the oceanside, and now, this place had become a haven for him too.

And it always made leaving so bittersweet.

Castle glances back to the cabin, his eyes tracking to the window where the soft glow from Ava's nightlight illuminates the tiny guest room that has slowly turned into her own after three years. At no sign of movement, he makes quick work of the jog around the side of the cabin, where he knows Kate is waiting, and sure enough, he finds her lying in the grass peppered with wildflowers.

She senses him the moment he appears, probably heard the moment he rose from their empty bed where her lack of presence had him waking with a disgruntled huff.

"Hey lover," she whispers, redirecting her gaze from the night sky above onto him, her smile glowing in the dark.

Castle grins and joins her in the moonlit clearing behind her father's cabin. It isn't an unusual occurrence for her to disappear to this spot in the night, even less unusual for him to plop down beside her, spend the night talking or making love beneath the stars. But tonight, he can tell she has something on her mind, something she's been yearning to tell him all day if the sidelong glances and glimpses he's caught of anticipation brimming in her eyes, along her lips, is any indication.

Rick extends his legs forward, relishing in the cushion of the soft, green grass, and positions his arms behind him, leans back until he can tilt his chin up to the sky.

"I should've brought a bottle of your favorite wine out with me, finished off our anniversary in style," he muses, shifting his weight onto his left hand so he can comb the hair back from her forehead with his right, aid the stray locks in joining the rest splayed across the green earth.

Kate's lips quirk at the suggestion. "Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me, Rick Castle?"

"I don't need to get you drunk to do that," he shoots back, earning a quiet huff of her laughter as she sits up beside him.

"No," she hums, drifting towards him to dusts her lips to his shoulder, the brush of her mouth eliciting frissons of electricity along his veins. "You don't. But I actually wanted to talk to you about something," she murmurs, pulling her knees up to her chest, her usual pose for serious discussions, and the blooming arousal in his bloodstream cools, evaporates under the anticipation climbing his spine.

It has him straightening up beside her, scooting closer, but not touching. Not yet.

"I'm listening," he encourages, watching her shoulders rise with the deep inhale she takes, but the look on her face isn't foreboding or anxious. Maybe a little nervous, but mostly… hopeful?

"We haven't talked about the future recently," she begins, chewing on her bottom lip, a habit he doesn't see quite as often anymore, but doesn't ever think she'll truly break. "About what the next few years could hold and what we both want from them."

Castle nods. "Well, your captain's exam is coming up this month and I really think-"

"No, not – I wasn't talking professionally," she informs him with a small smile. "I meant… with us. With our family." Kate's eyes rise from the ground, flickering up to meet his with soft delight gleaming in hers, and he swallows hard, feels the hope he saw on her face earlier invade his chest. "I know Ava was a surprise for both of us-"

"Wait," he interrupts her, his breath already beginning to catch in his lungs. "Are you saying you want more kids? That you want to – to start trying for another?"

The smile breaks wide and brilliant across her face, her eyes twinkling brighter than the glimmering stars above.

"We don't have to try, Rick," she chuckles, the sound so light and beautiful to his ears as she shifts to her knees, eases one over his lap and weaves her arms around his neck. "We already succeeded."

The breath evacuates from his lungs, the shocked smile already spreading across his lips. "You're pregnant?"

Kate nods and he surges forward to embrace her, to cradle her body snug and tight against his, to bury his awestruck expression in the cove of her neck and allow her the chance to muffle her laughter in his shoulder. And oh, he knows they hadn't talked about it, hadn't expressed any desire for a second child yet, but as his heart explodes in his chest and his cheeks begin to ache from the spread of his smile, as Kate's upturned lips press to his jaw and the gentle laughter continues to spill from her mouth to his skin, it's quite clear that the desire is mutual.

"Do you remember," she murmurs, her lips caressing the shell of his ear. "That first week, when you talked about coming back here one day, with our family, with grandkids?"

" _You_ remember that?" he whispers, his eyebrows hitching against her jaw before he pulls back. He had teased her with that joke before she was even his, terrified her with the prospect of a future that he never would have fathomed her wanting then, but now…

"I still hope we have that one day," Kate confesses, biting down on her bottom lip again and Castle lifts his hand, dusts his thumb over the swelling flesh until its set free. "I never thought that this – that I could have it. After my mom died, I never thought I even had a chance at a future like this, but then you… I just hope you know how much it means to me, how much our family means. How much I love you, Castle."

"I do know," he whispers, brushing his thumb along the harsh edge of her jaw. His chest is swelling, his throat closing up with the urge to cry and his eyes beginning to burn with the effort of keeping it back, and Kate drifts forward, touches her lips to the corner of his eye before the moisture can fall. "You changed everything for me too, Kate. Second I met you, life became extraordinary," he reminds her, quoting vows from their wedding that have her own eyes sparkling with tears.

"I still want the lifetime," she gets out, her voice unsteady and her smile shaking. "Lifetime of swimming."

Castle laughs, quietly in the peace of the woods, and lifts to taste her lips, to touch his tongue to the corner of her mouth, where she opens for him on a sigh, hums at the promise he paints with his tongue.

"It's already yours," he murmurs, welcoming the press of her forehead and the kiss of her nose to his. "All yours, Kate."

* * *

 **A/N:** There are not enough words to express how grateful I am to all of you who read this story and provided feedback in the form of a review, a follow or favorite, a tweet or a message through tumblr - each and every response has been so very meaningful, to say the least. Thank you. And of course, a major thank you to Nadia for the stunning cover art that provided a beautiful vision to go along with this fic.

This story in particular was a special one for me and it was such a privilege to share it with all of you. Until the next journey.


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